Between the Lines
by FinnFiona
Summary: A spontaneous gift from Ted's daughter takes Barney and Robin for a stroll down memory lane. Barney/Robin
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Neither **_**How I Met Your Mother**_** nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

* * *

"So, Uncle Barney, you'll never guess what Dad made us sit through last week," Mason said over a forkful of mashed potatoes.

"You didn't make them watch Star Wars again, did you?" Robin cut in with a sympathetic look at the kids. "Four times in as many weeks is really enough, even if it is the holidays."

"No, thank God," Mason muttered, receiving a disparaging look from his father. "He regaled us with the magnificent tale of how he met Mom," he clarified with more than a little sarcasm.

"Oh, Ted, you didn't," Barney chided his friend.

"What?" Ted asked innocently, reaching out to squeeze his wife's hand affectionately. "It's a good story!"

Barney and Robin snorted identically into their food, drawing laughter from both children.

"Personally," Emma added once she had regained her composure, "I found the underlying story of Uncle Barney and Aunt Robin much more interesting."

"That's my girl!" Barney exclaimed, raising his glass to her appreciatively. "Are you sure she's yours, Ted? She's much too awesome to be your offspring."

"Hey!" Ted cried, affronted, and launched into the innumerable reasons why he was certain Emma was, indeed, his daughter. Barney easily tuned him out, choosing instead to catch Robin's eyes across the table.

* * *

"Wait!" Emma called just as Barney and Robin were climbing into their car. "I almost forgot," she smiled, holding out an old CD album. "Mom was playing this yesterday and it made me think of you guys, after what Dad had told us..."

"Thanks, Em," Robin said curiously, taking the disc.

Emma grinned again before dashing back into the house and out of the cold.

"Peter, Paul and Mary..." Robin read aloud, turning the case over in her hands.

"Really?" Barney practically squealed, snatching the CD from her hands as he pulled out of the drive.

Robin laughed heartily at his kid in a candy store reaction. "You like this band, Barney?"

"_Robin_," Barney said in his mock-serious voice, "this is only the most _legendary_ American folk-style band to emerge out of the 60s'—nay, the entire 20th century," he finished with a flourish.

Robin snatched the album from his hands as they pulled off of Ted's street. "Eyes on the road," she commanded calmly. "They're American?" she asked, pulling out the CD jacket.

"Honestly, Robin, what are they playing in Canada? Its no wonder sandcastles are considered appropriate musical subject matter."

"Don't blame Canada!" Robin cried, brushing aside the slight to her own singing career.

"But it's so _easy_," Barney teased with that maddening twinkle in his eye. Robin couldn't help but smile.

Turning her attention back to the CD still in her hands, Robin started perusing the insert thoughtfully. "And this reminds Emma of us?" she asked with some skepticism.

Barney shrugged, reaching to pluck the CD from the case and twirl it on his finger. "What d'ya say, entertainment for the ride home? I'm betting we'll make a convert of you yet—expand your horizons beyond the snowy tundra," he added with a smirk.

"You're on," Robin replied, pushing the disc resolutely into the player…

* * *

_To be continued…_

**Author's Note: So this is definitely a huge departure for me, given the category particularly, so forgive me if it's not up to par. But this idea struck one day when my iPod was on shuffle and I simply couldn't get it out of my head. I welcome your thoughts and comments!**


	2. Impossible to Eat

**Disclaimer: Neither **_**How I Met Your Mother**_** nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

* * *

_Lemon Tree_

_When I was just a lad of ten, my father said to me,_

_"Come here and take a lesson from the lovely lemon tree."_

_"Don't put your faith in love, my boy", my father said to me,_

_"I fear you'll find that love is like the lovely lemon tree."_

_***_

_Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet_

_but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat._

_Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet_

_but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat._

_***_

_One day beneath the lemon tree, my love and I did lie_

_A girl so sweet that when she smiled the stars rose in the sky._

_We passed that summer lost in love beneath the lemon tree_

_the music of her laughter hid my father's words from me:_

_***_

_Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet_

_but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat._

_Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet_

_but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat._

_***_

_One day she left without a word. She took away the sun._

_And in the dark she left behind, I knew what she had done._

_She'd left me for another, it's a common tale but true._

_A sadder man but wiser now I sing these words to you:_

_***_

_Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet_

_but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat._

_Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet_

_but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat._

* * *

Normally, Barney avoided this particular street like the plague. Or like a girl with the plague. (Well, at least if the plague didn't have an antidote…)

But he was getting off topic. Barney's particular hatred for this block of the normally stellar New York City stemmed from its housing of the very coffee shop where his heart had once been broken.

Irreparably. (Or at least, so he thought.)

But when his dry cleaner had changed locations to the very same stretch of road, Barney had had no choice but to revisit his past. Barney had offered to buy Mrs. Chen new premises (conveniently located in his own building, naturally). He had skillfully propositioned her (much to Mr. Chen's furor). He had even come dangerously close to begging. But all to no avail.

Yet Barney trusted _no one_ else with his suits, and he had thus been forced to face the place of his and Shannon's demise.

He wasn't surprised (though extremely mortified and more than a little frustrated) to find that it still stung.

Eventually, Barney decided that if he were going to maintain appearances (and his suits), he had to at least _seem_ un-phased by this weekly confrontation. It wasn't too long before he was able to rationalize his way out of the conundrum, embracing the café as the site of his glorious transformation. After all, without Shannon he never would have been able to rid himself of the whiny, hopelessly romantic, granola wimp that was the sad prelude to the awesomeness he now embodied.

Lately, however, the little coffee shop had come to serve as a reminder of more than his embarrassment and heartache, and instead symbolize what he had once had… what a very small part of him (futilely clawing to the surface) hoped for whenever he so much as looked at Robin.

But that was… silly.

She might look good. And she certainly _was_ good. But he couldn't—_wouldn't_—let himself get any farther than that. After all, he was _Barney Stinson_, bachelor extraordinaire. He would not permit himself to travel down the road of a lovesick puppy once more.

Nor would he invite the hurt that inevitably followed.

Besides, he'd just managed Ted's forgiveness—he wasn't putting that at risk again.

And so Barney waited to collect his suits from Mrs. Chen, knowing his loyalty to her was well-placed when she tuned her small television to _The Price Is Right_.

Barney watched the opening bids thoughtfully (while criticizing the contestants' poor knowledge of the retail market). His father surrounded himself with beautiful women and games of chance… and he seemed perfectly happy.

Gritting his teeth as he made his decision, Barney exited the small store and whipped out his phone.

"Ted!" he called into the speaker. "Suit up, bro!"

"_Barney…_" came Ted's tired and scratchy voice, "_I'm sick_."

"Nonsense, Theodore," Barney scoffed, "a little cold never stopped anyone from seducing a woman."

"_Not that kind of sick, Barney_," Ted sighed. "_I've been puking my guts out all morning_."

"Even better! It will be the perfect opportunity to test out our 'I'm a research doctor who also loves our furry little friends and decries their mistreatment, so I test out all of my new drugs on myself' routine. A successful doctor _and_ you engender sympathy _and_ you have soft side—it's the guaranteed trifecta!"

"_No, Barney…_"

"See you at MacLaren's in twenty!" Barney smiled, employing his selective hearing as usual. (He had to…)

Barney was nursing a scotch for several minutes before his peripheral vision caught someone sliding into the booth. He looked up, expecting to find Ted.

"Scherbatsky?" he said, surprised, his voice momentarily slipping. He recovered quickly, however, raking his eyes freely over her form. "Nice suit," he commented with a smirk.

"Ted really is sick, Barney," Robin replied, unable to keep the trace of a smile from her lips. "But he sent me instead."

Barney silently weighed his annoyance at being distracted from his initial goal of forgetting about this woman (and the flutterings she sent through his stomach) against the pleasure he (involuntarily) felt at said flutterings.

"Good," he said at last, "you can get the first round."

Robin grinned, shaking her head slightly as she walked to the bar.

Barney watched her go, downing the rest of his drink quickly in an effort to maintain his earlier resolution. You couldn't have your cake and eat it too. This would be a night of fun—of sport. Nothing more.

Anything else simply wasn't possible. Not for him.

_But couldn't it be possimpible…?_

_No_, Barney quashed the pathetic (but endlessly hopeful) voice, _this time it's just impossible_.

* * *

_To be continued..._

**A/N: Thanks for reading—I'll try to update again soon. In the meantime, please leave a review!**


	3. One Grey Night It Happened

**Disclaimer: Neither **_**How I Met Your Mother**_** nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

* * *

_Puff, the Magic Dragon_

_Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea_

_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,_

_Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff,_

_And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff. Oh_

_***_

_Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea_

_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,_

_Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea_

_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee._

_***_

_Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail_

_Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff's gigantic tail,_

_Noble kings and princes would bow whene'er they came,_

_Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name. Oh!_

_***_

_Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea_

_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,_

_Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea_

_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee._

_***_

_A dragon lives forever but not so little boys_

_Painted wings and giants' rings make way for other toys._

_One grey night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more_

_And Puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar._

_***_

_His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain,_

_Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane._

_Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave,_

_So Puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave. Oh!_

_***_

_Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea_

_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,_

_Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea_

_And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee_

* * *

Robin Scherbatsky prided herself on being the consummate realist—things were as they were, as they had been, and as they always would be.

And yet, a surprisingly large part of Robin's life had always been wrapped up in fantasy.

Her father had raised her in just such a fancy, where she was his son, and the best hockey player this side of Alberta.

When she graduated from college, she was still entertaining the delusion that she'd be working for CNN or at least BBC Canada and have traveled to three continents by the time she was twenty-five.

The approved script said she was never going to fall in love with a guy like Ted Mosby.

And she most certainly didn't sleep with the Barneys of the world—if, indeed, there was more than one.

But the thing about fantasies—and the main reason Robin had always tried so hard to steer clear of them—was that they always shattered and left you reeling.

Because she did turn out to be a girl—and a pretty one, at that. Though kissing the boys was a nice consolation for her even if her dad wasn't so happy about it... And she _could_ still check a guy twice her size into the wall.

But she definitely wasn't the journalist she had expected to be, no matter what her video resume said.

And she had fallen for Ted… at least for a time.

Then there was Barney… she'd stopped him once, but the second time… well, it hadn't gone quite the same way. In fact, it went the opposite way. And with the opposite effect than she had expected.

The thing was, she'd thought she understood Barney. And the Barney she _thought_ she understood was the one that fantasy-deluded Robin wouldn't sleep with. Barney was fun, a good friend in his own unique way, and someone that Robin connected with in a way she didn't with the others. But Barney with _women_ on the other hand… that was the Barney she was leery of.

And with good reason.

Yet when she did sleep with Barney it wasn't at all what she had expected.

She _had_ expected good—at least she was right about that. Thank Gretzky…

But she hadn't expected gentle, careful… she had genuinely felt _better_.

It was, perhaps, the first time Robin had been personally privy to the softer side of Barney Stinson. The Barney that did more than any of the rest of them to put Marshall and Lily back together and keep them that way. The Barney that would do anything for Ted—everything from helping him execute a rain dance to, later, getting hit by a bus.

And now, apparently, the Barney that was rather good at comforting Robin Scherbatsky.

But in the morning they both felt more than a bit awkward and it was a little too real, even for Robin, and Barney went back to his usual _modus operandi_.

Then, to top it all off, Ted just… Tedded-out on them. Part of her understood, of course, but part of her was unendingly irked by the underlying current of possessiveness and by the sole blame landing on Barney. In that moment, at least, it was just as much her. But only Marshall and Lily seemed to believe her when she insisted Barney hadn't taken advantage—and Robin wasn't even sure she'd totally convinced _them_, at least not at first.

Even after they'd all been reunited in their proper quintet, Barney still acted weird at times. And for Barney, that was saying something.

Yet as usual, Robin didn't really want her fantasy back. It was much easier if she just accepted reality… wasn't it? Because this still felt complicated…

It must just be another fantasy—that was it. The little swoop she'd feel sometimes when she and Barney shared a smile or joke or a particularly exuberant high-five… The way she got a little lightheaded when she caught him looking at her over his scotch glass… she was just fooling herself again. They were friends—bros. _That_ was reality.

She'd just have to hold onto that and wait for the fantasy to end.

Wouldn't she?

* * *

_To be continued…_

**A/N: So I know this song may seem a stretch given its 'real' subject matter, but I hope you see the same sentiment I do. Thanks again for reading—please leave a note with your thoughts!**


	4. Pass This Way Again

**Disclaimer: Neither **_**How I Met Your Mother**_** nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

* * *

_For Lovin' Me_

_That's what you get for lovin' me_

_That's what you get for lovin' me_

_Everything you had is gone, as you can see_

_That's what you get for lovin' me._

_***_

_I ain't the kind to hang around_

_With any new love that I've found_

_Movin' is my stock in trade_

_I'm movin on_

_I won't think of you when I'm gone._

_***_

_So don't you shed a tear for me_

_I ain't the love you thought I'd be_

_I've got a hundred more like you_

_so don't be blue_

_I'll have a thousand 'fore I'm through._

_***_

_Now there you go you're crying again_

_Now there you go you're crying again_

_But then someday when your poor heart_

_is on the mend_

_I just might pass this way again._

_***_

_That's what you get for lovin' me_

_That's what you get for lovin' me_

_Everything you had is gone, as you can see_

_That's what you get for lovin' me._

* * *

Two hundred women…

Two _hundred_ women.

And Barney honestly thought (fooled himself into thinking) that it was time for something new. Robin (God… _Robin_) was at the bar and it all could have been laid out in front of him like a cosmic roadmap. But then…

"Hey there…"

Cassidy.

(Callie? Carmendy…?)

Well, her name hardly mattered (did they ever? Well, one did…)—she was cute and blond (or brunette…? Damn.)

Some other part of Barney (the part that mostly hadn't been looking at the roadmap) clicked in then—just turned on. It was a habit (finely honed skill) too deeply ingrained, he supposed. Before he knew it he was an astronaut set to literally leave the earth (and all of his problems) the following day.

Cassidy/Callie/Carmendy ate it right up, as he knew she would.

* * *

At 4:30 Barney was still wide awake, while Triple C (in more ways than one—high five!) was lightly snoring at his side (very unattractive—she'd probably do better with a pillow, but that was just silly).

Normally, Barney had no trouble drifting off to sleep in these circumstances—no qualms, no reservations, just perfectly sated slumber.

So why did he feel so disgusted with himself?

Stumbling (slithering, really—it was satin suit pajamas on satin sheets, after all) out of bed, Barney made his way aimlessly to the kitchen, swishing the melted ice cubes in an abandoned tumbler as he passed by. A little orange light caught his eye, drawing him like a beacon (or a sign on the roadmap…), and his tired (and self-loathing) brain wondered what his TiVo was recording…

He was already turning on the giant screen when he realized…

Robin's megawatt (quite literally—did he really need a television this large?) smile was shining down on him and it was a moment before Barney recognized the churning in his stomach as the first tendrils of guilt.

"Honeybear… come back to bed."

"Can't," Barney replied simply, still mesmerized (and a little blinded) by the screen.

"But it's soooo early… Oh! Is it the launch? What time is my favorite astronaut flying to the moon? Are you anxious, pooh-bear? Let me calm your nerves…"

"Wha…?" Barney said, distracted. "Oh, right, that…" he said, tearing his eyes from the TV. "Yea… you should go."

"What? Now?"

But Barney was already headed to his closet.

* * *

Cabs were sparse at this time of the morning, even in New York, but at least traffic was light. Soon enough he was at the studio, charming his way (really, it was too easy—was this all he was good at?) backstage.

And then there she was again… and somehow, her smile was even sweeter in person (even reduced to normal size).

Yet all Barney could think was he didn't (_did. not._) deserve that. He didn't deserve that smile ever to be bestowed on him, because he'd find some way to ruin it and the smile would dissolve into tears (or at least not a smile—this _was_ Robin, after all). He'd make a mistake and it would all be over.

Robin Scherbatsky could do better than him. Much better…

Girls like Cassidy (/Callie/Carmendy)—that's what Barney did. He didn't do monogamy. He didn't do feelings.

He didn't do… _love_.

And if he didn't break away now… he'd just end up hurting her (not to mention losing her forever—at least this way she could still be _there_.)

So Barney left as quietly as he came, her laughter (at some joke the weather clown made—_really_, Scherbatsky?) following him out.

* * *

Barney walked to MacLaren's. Sure it was rather far (and these shoes were not made for walking) but it seemed… appropriate. Besides, it wasn't as though the bar would be open yet.

When he finally arrived, Carl was just taking down the chairs, but he took one look at Barney and brought a scotch to the regular booth.

_You'll be fine_... he thought with false bravado (two and a half glasses could do that). _Two hundred women in ten years? At that rate, you could easily hit a thousand by the time you're eighty…_

_Might have to move to France for the last few years, but…_

By the time Barney reached the bottom of his fourth glass, he could no longer convince himself that 800 (_or 799_ he thought miserably) more women was even remotely what he wanted.

He knew there would still only be one that ever really counted.

But it wasn't an option, Barney told himself firmly. If he couldn't even hold onto the idea of Robin for one night (for one _hour_—pathetic) without turning to the next bimbo, then he shouldn't even try.

"Barney?"

"Hey…" Barney slurred ever so slightly. "Marshall, my man, my bro, take a seat."

Marshall eyed him skeptically but slid into the booth. "Barney, its two o'clock in the afternoon—how long have you been here?"

"Dunno…" Barney shrugged. "Why are _you_ here?"

"I was a little worried when you didn't show up for work…" Marshall said. "Your secretary said you didn't have any meetings with the Koreans, so…"

"Ah…" Barney said, suddenly very interested in the patterns his glass made on the table.

"Barney…?" Marshall asked with concern.

"I gave up…" Barney said mutedly.

"On work?" Marshall asked skeptically. "But you love GNB."

"Heh, that I do…" Barney grinned as he hummed the opening bars to the theme song. "_Goliath National Baaaank…_" he sung quietly. "No Marshall," he corrected, quickly shifting into grandeur mode (even easier with that much liquor in your system), "I've given up on love."

Marshall looked genuinely stricken. "Barney, you can't do that…"

"Got to," Barney said simply. "Can't do anything else… won't do it… I won't hurt 'er." He was slurring again (_pull yourself together!_).

Marshall looked at him a moment longer before reaching his (freakishly long) arm around the table and pulling Barney out of the bar.

* * *

"Marshall… what are we doing here?"

"I'm out of my league, here, buddy," Marshall replied, still leading Barney by the arm.

"But this is Lily's school…" Barney said, still slightly dulled by the alcohol. "Lily isn't speaking to me."

Marshall just grunted, turning at last down a dimly familiar corridor.

"Just wait here," Marshall said gently as they came to a stop outside a brightly (and badly—whose idea was it to put flowers on the sun?) decorated door.

Barney couldn't really hear anything once Marshall went into the classroom, though he thought he caught a _'please, baby…'_ over the cacophony of kindergartners.

At long last, Marshall emerged—with a reluctant-looking Lily behind him. Barney put on his best grin for her.

"Lily has agreed to speak to you through a proxy," Marshall intoned in his lawyer voice. Barney simply raised an eyebrow but Marshall pursed his lips in that silently convincing way and Barney nodded.

"So, what's this about giving up on love?" Lily's voice came from behind Marshall.

"So, what's this about giving up on love?" Marshall repeated dutifully. He was really (disturbingly) good at putting the patented Lily facial expressions with the words.

"I don't want to hurt her," Barney replied, repeating his earlier sentiments.

"And what makes you think you will?" Lily pressed, with her Marshall echo.

"Because that's what I do!" Barney said, feeling his voice edge towards desperation. "I'll mess it up and it'll be all weird and horrible and completely un-awesome…"

"Barney…"

"No!" he was really losing control now (just now?). "I already know how it'll end… I love her but I can't help myself."

"Well I already told you—you _can't_ love Robin and still sleep with other women."

"I know…"

"You know?"

"I do now… Because I did and then I saw her and I felt… ashamed."

"Oh, Barney…" Marshall's own puppy-dog eyes were infecting the Lily-isms at this point and Barney could hardly look at him, so he opted for the floor instead.

"It doesn't matter! Old dog, new tricks and all that… I can't change."

"But can't you see you've already changed?"

This made Barney pause—had he? Had he changed? "But even if I wanted to, I still made the same mistake," he insisted, brows furrowed.

"It's different now, though, isn't it? The fact you're calling it (_'her, Lily'_)—her… a mistake, that you feel guilty… You can change, you _did_ change—it just took you awhile to get here."

"It did…? _I_ did…?" This was dangerous, he was starting to hope. Lily Aldrin was crafty like that.

"Yea, Barney, I hate to break it to ya, but you did."

Barney would later blame the five glasses of scotch and lack of sleep, but a single tear chose that moment to break the (nigh impenetrable) gates and roll slowly down his cheek.

"Lily…" Marshall turned, eyes beseeching.

"Give him a hug, Marshmallow," Lily said softly.

Marshall closed the distance in milliseconds, wrapping Barney in the fiercest bear hug he could muster. Barney was momentarily stunned, but soon managed to wrap his arms around Marshall's back—albeit a little awkwardly.

Barney felt a much smaller hand rest fleetingly on top of his own as he and Marshall stood there (Marshall seemed unwilling to let go just yet). "I'm proud of you, Barney," Lily whispered, ducking quickly back inside her classroom.

Barney felt the smallest of grins quirk at his lips as she went, leaving just the (very, ever so very) tiniest bit of hope behind her.

**

* * *

**

_To be continued..._

**A/N: Well… this turned out to be much longer than I expected… I hope you enjoyed it, anyhow!**


	5. Make Me Change My Mind

**Disclaimer: Neither **_**How I Met Your Mother**_** nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

* * *

_Don't Think Twice, It's All Right_

_It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe,_

_It don't matter, anyhow._

_And it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe,_

_If you don't know by now._

_When the rooster crows at the break of dawn,_

_Look out your window and I'll be gone_

_You're the reason I'm travelin' on,_

_Don't think twice it's all right._

_***_

_It ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe,_

_Light I never know'd_

_It ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe,_

_I'm on the dark side of the road._

_Still I wish there was somethin' you would do or say_

_To try and make me change my mind and stay,_

_We never did too much talkin' anyway,_

_So don't think twice it's all right._

_***_

_I'm walkin' down that long, lonesome road, babe,_

_Where I'm bound, I can't tell_

_But goodbye is too good a word gal,_

_So I'll just say fair-thee-well_

_I ain't saying you treated me unkind,_

_You could of done better, but I don't mind_

_You just sorta wasted my precious time,_

_But don't think twice it's all right._

_***_

_It ain't no use in callin' out my name gal,_

_Like you never did before_

_It ain't no use in callin' out my name gal,_

_I can't hear you anymore._

_I'm a thinkin' and a wonderin' all the way down the road_

_I once loved a woman, a child I'm told,_

_I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul,_

_Don't think twice it's all right._

* * *

She Mosby'd him. The little minx (sly fox, cunning… robin?) _Mosby'd_ him.

Of course his first reaction was to run (really, really fast). It wouldn't have been a very useful tactic if he didn't (leave it to Ted to come up with the most brilliant breakup strategy _ever_ while intending the opposite).

So Barney extricated himself from Robin's confession with lightening speed, effectively dousing his own feelings with a veritable deluge of cold water.

She wanted to play it that way? Well that was just fine. He was Barney Stinson, after all—he barely needed a breath to move on. Plenty of fish in the sea, after all. And that fish over there was looking mighty golden… (What was it with him and animal metaphors today?)

And if he wavered (like that was going to happen—_please_), there was a handy reserve of resentment to clamp down upon at a moment's notice. Because really, he just spent the last year of his life pining after (as in constantly thinking about, dreaming about, and—let's be honest—lusting about) this girl and she was going to dismiss him just like that?

Much as he'd been reluctant to at first, he really _was _going to tell her how he felt. But she barely even let him get further than the first (let's face it, shaky as hell) syllable. It was enough to make Barney feel as though he'd wasted his time. If Robin wouldn't even give him a chance (and why would she?), then why had he even bothered?

_Because you love her, you idiot_, Lily's voice chimed in (ever so helpfully).

So _it_ (the oxymoronic bane and boon of his existence) was still there then? Fear and anger hadn't pushed the feeling away entirely? (They'd always worked so well before…)

He could slip into the background, leave graciously and quietly (or as quietly as he ever did anything—maybe a fiery diversion would be better…) and never bring it up again. Take the out Robin so kindly (coldly, brutally) offered.

But somewhere between that rooftop and Ted's hospital room, Barney realized that he couldn't do that. A year of _that _was slowly killing him (or at least suiting him up in a straight jacket—his least favorite kind). So he'd keep wasting his time (if that's what he was doing) if doing so might one day give him the opportunity he wanted.

(Challenge _accepted_.)

* * *

If there was, indeed, a dominant and a passive element to every personality, Robin often wondered if her dominant side was coming on a little too strong.

Sure, it gave her a useful dose of self-confidence. Probably made her job a little easier, too…

But it also gave her a stubborn streak to rival any mule. Normally she didn't mind what she preferred to term strength of will. And when that nagging fear that she might be wrong started nipping at her heels, Robin supposed being able to ignore it was pretty handy.

(And if she _was_ wrong…?)

It wasn't often that Robin let herself get to the point of inner conflict, even, so why was the prospect of Barney being in love with her sending her into a tailspin?

But she didn't really have a choice when the dominant voice took the wheel—it was a bad idea, they were both terrible at relationships, they weren't the best with words, it could ruin their friendship… Just shut the rest out.

So she Mosby'd him—and it worked like a charm.

And really, if it was that easy to crack him then how serious could he really have been? She was right after all—turmoil averted.

If only her heart was listening…

Her passive side just had to pick today to grow a pair, didn't it?

* * *

It was a rush, kissing her again. The back and forth Mosbying wasn't exactly for the faint of heart either (and Barney's heart wasn't exactly his best exercised muscle).

And even though it was still sort of confusing and nothing was really set in stone (or even sand, for that matter), Barney felt as though he'd taken a step forward for the first time in a _very_ long time.

Standing on the roof again, Barney thought his feet had never been lighter. Even if this leap was supposed to be about Ted (metaphorically) and Marshall (literally), it sort of felt like it was about all of them.

So when Robin jumped (not exactly the mere step it had seemed for a giant like Marshall), Barney felt his heart jump with her.

And he couldn't just leave his heart thumping along across the alley (_not_ practical)—he had to go get it.

* * *

Robin wasn't sure at what point she'd lost control of this situation. Even after the insanity that was the hospital she still had room to get out, renege, remember all of her supposedly airtight reasons why she couldn't possibly… do _this_.

Maybe it was actually letting Barney… talk. (Who knew?)

Maybe it was giving her reasons for Mosbying him a little too honestly, even if she was simultaneously Mosbying him again.

Maybe it was leaping from their building—adrenaline could do crazy thing to a person, so they said… or, if she were slightly more sentimental, she'd say it was letting all of her hang-ups literally fall out beneath her.

But when she took in the look Barney gave her as he stood teetering on the rooftop, Robin had one of those moments she supposed Ted might call an epiphany. It might only last a moment and the nerves and uncertainty could be back to torture her in the morning—but as Barney landed and she pulled him up into a tight hug, she found she didn't have to think…

"Let's make it legen…" she whispered in his hear, drawing out the last syllable.

He pulled back, exuberant smile matching hers perfectly. "Wait for it…"

**

* * *

**

_To be continued..._

**A/N: For those of you keeping track, this should bring us up to speed with the Season 4 finale. The remaining chapters will take us through the (mostly) uncharted future, eventually catching up with the prologue.**

**Thanks as always for reading—please leave a review!**


	6. When the Words Don’t Get in the Way

**Disclaimer: Neither **_**How I Met Your Mother**_** nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

* * *

_I Dig Rock and Roll Music_

_I dig Rock and Roll music_

_And I love to get the chance to play (and sing it)._

_I figure it's about the happiest sound goin' down today._

_***_

_The message may not move me,_

_Or mean a great deal to me,_

_But hey! It feels so groovy to say:_

_I dig the Mamas and the Papas at "The Trip,"_

_Sunset Strip in L.A._

_And they got a good thing goin'_

_When the words don't get in the way._

_And when they're really wailing,_

_Michelle and Cass are sailin'._

_Hey! They really nail me to the wall._

_***_

_I dig Donovan in a dream-like, tripped out way_

_His crystal images tell you 'bout a brighter day_

_And when the Beatles tell you_

_They've got a word "love" to sell you_

_They mean exactly what they say._

_***_

_I dig Rock and Roll music_

_I could really get it on in that scene._

_I think I could say somethin' if you know what I mean_

_But if I really say it, the radio won't play it_

_Unless I lay it between the lines._

_

* * *

_

Robin swatted blindly in the general direction of her phone, succeeding in pushing it haphazardly to the floor. Her sleep-addled brain may have thought this would solve her immediate problem, but when it kept ringing she was forced to reevaluate.

"What?" she mumbled by way of greeting, hardly bothering to open her eyes.

_"Time to suit up, Scherbatsky!"_ Barney's voice rang out cheerfully from the other end of the phone.

"Barney…" Robin groaned, risking a look at the clock. "It's barely 9 a.m. on a Sunday… not the time for suiting up."

_"Nonsense, Robin, haven't you ever heard of wearing your Sunday best? Now rise and shine—I'll be there in twenty."_

Robin sighed as the silence overtook the line. Three months of dating—or being together—or whatever they were doing—had taught her it was best to just get up now. Resigning herself to the inevitable, she put her feet to the cold floor and headed for the shower.

* * *

"Mimosa?" Barney offered as the limo pulled away from the curb, though his eyes were still ogling her choice of suit.

Robin smiled, satisfied that she had done well. "So where are we going?" she asked as she accepted the flute.

"Oh, you'll see," Barney responded with that mischievous glint that used to make Robin a lot more nervous than it did now.

Knowing it was futile to press for more details, Robin simply leaned back on the plush leather seats to enjoy the ride.

* * *

Their destination turned out to be the Oak Room, where a gourmet brunch was waiting for them. Robin had to admit it was food worth getting up for. And somewhere in the midst of role-playing the conversation they imagined for the stuffy couple two tables over, Robin actually found herself offering Barney a bite of her omelette.

By the time their peach cobbler and shoofly pie (which Robin did _not_ share—let's be reasonable) had been cleared, Robin found she would indeed say yes to a cigar and game of 9-ball in the lounge. There was something very invigorating about staring down the cue in a pinstripe suit—and even more so when she cleared Barney's Benjamins off the table in victory.

"So, what are we going to do now? Battleship?" Robin asked, sidling up to Barney playfully. "And I do mean that euphemistically," she added with a smirk.

The goofy grin that had been on Barney's face most of the morning slid into a wry grin and his eyes darkened a shade or two. "Most definitely, Scherbatsky," he said, clearing his throat. Robin couldn't help but smile, enjoying the effect she was producing. "But that's for later," he added, close to her ear. "We have a lot more to do," he continued, pulling back.

"Oh?" Robin started to ask, but Barney was already leading her out the door.

* * *

When they arrived at the shooting range, Robin was starting to wonder how Barney's plans usually ended so disastrously if he was obviously capable of planning a fairly awesome Sunday date. But then, she supposed, there were still several hours of daylight to burn…

Robin was soon examining her choices of weapon like a kid in the candy store, already feeling the rush of adrenaline bursting at the dam. The personal instructor (a—quite attractive—former sniper with the Army Rangers) Barney had lined up didn't hurt either—though perhaps he hadn't counted on Adam having quite such a personal approach. She might have been worried that Barney would get jealous, but when the flush of excitement burned through her veins after three straight bull's-eyes, she rewarded his forbearance with the very best kiss she could muster. Considering how Robin felt with a gun in her hand, it was no surprise that Barney's ego was placated.

Besides, she thanked him again in the limo.

* * *

"Am I going to have to blindfold you?" Barney chided.

"They're closed, they're closed!" Robin assured him, making a show of clamping her eyes shut as Barney steered her with a hand at the small of her back. It grew noticeably colder as a pair of doors shut behind them. "Do I hear…" she trailed off, questioning herself momentarily, "a Zamboni?"

The rational, cynical Robin could kick herself for being so giddy, but as she pressed her hands to the glass she realized that hockey might just be the way to her heart.

By the time they reached the second half of the game, Robin was growing hoarse from yelling. She preferred to be in the first row if she couldn't be on the ice, but Barney had insisted that if he was going to go to a hockey game he was staying in suit-friendly areas. GNB's private box provided the ideal spot—at least for him. Robin was still itching for a jersey and the swish of the puck ringing in her ears.

As her Canadian accent grew stronger (proportionate to the intensity of the game and the beers she consumed), the GNB suits started to either laugh or stare openly at her antics. But Barney didn't seem to hear them, standing at the back of the room. When she caught his proud smile, it almost made up for being contained at a hockey game.

* * *

"MacLaren's? Really?" Robin asked skeptically as they pulled up at the bar.

"What?" Barney asked, dismayed.

"I don't know, after today I was expecting…" she stopped herself, starting to feel guilty for putting that look on his face.

But the self-assured grin was back in a flash. "Trust me, Scherbatsky, MacLaren's is an essential stop on any truly awesome itinerary."

They were on their second glass of scotch when the rest of the gang showed up, and another tumbler in Robin had to agree that this was the perfect way to end the evening… or at least the best precursor to the end of the evening…

"Come on, Robin—let's get the next round," Barney nudged her out of the booth and towards the bar. "So… good day?" he asked her, smiling broadly as they waited for Carl's attention.

Robin felt her heart swell—this was a slippery slope. "Fairly legendary," she answered. Barney's responding grin was at its widest.

Since that crazy day of Mosbying, Barney and Robin had moved forward in their own… _unique_ way. But they'd never admitted anything quite as weighty as they had those few months ago. Yet every once in awhile, especially lately, she felt _those words_ quelling up inside her.

And here Barney was, looking at her like _that_ and it was all Robin could do to just think it.

_I love you, Barney_.

Even though she hadn't uttered a word, Barney's smile seemed to say, _I love you, too_.

Maybe they weren't able to say it out loud, maybe they were afraid—it was too soon. Maybe if they gave force to those thoughts they'd be scared off, it would ruin everything, it just wouldn't play.

So until it did, telepathic conversations would just have to do.

And even if most people didn't see it, Lily was always saying it was in everything Robin and Barney did. Robin wasn't sure she wanted to examine their actions that closely…

"And how are we spending the rest of our time here?" Robin asked at last, suddenly aware at how long they'd been staring at each other.

Barney glanced back at the booth. "What's a legendary day without a little messing with Ted?"

Robin smirked as Carl came over to ask for their order. "Five bottles of Becks, please," she answered.

"Wait," Barney said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "make the last one a Stella."

"Barney, that's cold, even for you," Robin scolded playfully as Carl walked off.

"Now Scherbatsky, he has to know he's over her—we're doing him a favor, really," Barney responded easily. He raised an eyebrow questioningly as Carl set the bottles on the counter.

Robin was starting to worry at how easily he wore her down. "Oh, Theodore…!" she called in her best Barney voice as she grabbed two of the bottles. Barney followed with the others, a giddy smirk stretched across his face.

Ted looked over as they approached, turning uneasily to Marshall and Lily. "This is going to be dangerous, isn't it?"

* * *

_To be continued…_

**A/N: This may not be one of their more famous songs, but it's one of my favorites—and I think if you extend a metaphor or two, it just screams Barney and Robin. I hope you agree!**


	7. She Stumbled, and Fell

**Disclaimer: Neither **_**How I Met Your Mother**_** nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

* * *

_Stewball_

_Oh Stewball was a racehorse, and I wish he were mine._

_He never drank water, he always drank wine._

_***  
_

_His bridle was silver, his mane it was gold._

_And the worth of his saddle has never been told._

_***  
_

_Oh the fairgrounds were crowded, and Stewball was there_

_But the betting was heavy on the bay and the mare._

_***  
_

_As they were approaching about half way around,_

_the grey mare she stumbled, and fell to the ground._

_***  
_

_And a-way up yonder, ahead of them all,_

_Came a-prancin' and a-dancin' my noble Stewball._

_***  
_

_I bet on the grey mare, I bet on the bay_

_If I'd have bet on ol' Stewball, I'd be a free man today._

_***  
_

_Oh the hoot owl, she hollers, and the turtle dove moans._

_I'm a poor boy in trouble, I'm a long way from home._

_***  
_

_Oh Stewball was a racehorse, and I wish he were mine._

_He never drank water, he always drank wine._

_

* * *

_

"I don't think he'll—" Ted stopped abruptly, "Oh, hi Robin."

Robin shot him a suspicious look as she took the open seat at the booth. "What are you guys talking about...?"

"Nothing," Lily answered quickly, suppressing a hiccup.

"We really need to work on that, Lilypad," Marshall said in an undertone to his wife, to which she nodded sadly while shooting Robin an apologetic look.

"Well?" Robin pressed (being not in the least comforted by their guilty faces).

"You know Martin from accounting?" Marshall began.

"No," Robin answered, unsure of where this could be going, but not liking the queasiness growing in her stomach.

"Well Marty is getting married Saturday, so tomorrow there's going to be a bachelor party..." Marshall trailed off.

Alarms were starting to go off in Robin's head. Bachelor parties meant Barney. "And let me guess who volunteered to organize it," she said tiredly.

"Got it in one," Ted said with a sympathetic glance. (When did he patent that look?)

"We were actually going to bet Ted that Barney would behave himself," Lily hastened to add.

Robin raised her eyebrows in Ted's direction.

"I wouldn't take the bet!" Ted quickly said, holding up his hands.

Robin's eyebrows shot up even further. "You know how Barney gets," she said skeptically. She could just see him, after pulling off (or not) one of his favorite events—he was all liquor and unashamed grins when he was the last one not to flee the scene and the working girl worked her way oh so skillfully over...

"But Robin," Lily said, as close to Lily ever came to sputtering. "You've been dating almost six months."

"We never laid down any rules," Robin shrugged. It was ironic really, considering Barney's prized Bro Code, that he didn't have a contract penned with an exclusivity clause. But then, this was a relationship of a different color...

"Robin, you can't honestly think he'd do anything... with anyone..." Marshall looked downright stricken. "I mean, maybe he still flirts a little more easily than he should..."

"And I'm working on that, trust me," Lily chirped, eyes narrowed in kindergarten teacher-mode.

"And he's still a rather effective wingman," Ted allowed. "Don't tell him I said that," he added at the looks he got around the booth.

Robin was about to respond (though she wasn't sure with what) when Marshall cut her off. "He really cares about you, Robin."

"I know you think you don't want to change him, sweetie," Lily said, "but he's changing all on his own—way before you ever even gave him a chance. And it's not as though he's turning into a fundamentally different person."

"But—" Robin started, growing somewhat irked at their certainty in the face of her inner doubt.

"We know you're scared," Ted said in that (annoyingly) understanding voice he liked to employ. "This is when you and I started to get really serious and you feel it coming again..."

"But this time it's different," Marshall put in.

"And it might be better," Lily added, sparing a small look of apology at Ted.

But Ted seemed to take it all in stride. "It might be perfect, Robin."

Robin gave herself two seconds for her (usually keen) sense of self-preservation to kick in before staring around at her friends. "Just how often do you guys talk about us?"

"Married couple's prerogative, Robin," Lily smiled sweetly.

Robin turned expectantly to Ted, who made a show of straightening his posture and putting on a long face. "Hi, I'm Ted, and I'm a hopeless romantic."

"Welcome, Ted," Marshall and Lily chorused with false solemnity.

"I'll take that bet," Robin said suddenly (without thinking, feeling), pushing back from the table.

"Robin! We're sorry, we—" Lily called after her, but Robin was already out of the bar.

* * *

Robin spent most of the next day avoiding everyone and any talk of the wager she'd placed. But (though she tried valiantly) she failed to stop her mind from wandering in that direction.

She couldn't help but think that maybe her friends had been right—maybe she was scared (her? Robin Scherbatsky, _scared_?). True, it _was_ difficult to fathom such a thing, but truth be told, the idea wasn't so far-fetched. Because as much as she hated to admit it, she knew she was growing attached to the idea of her and Barney… together.

Despite a few snags, these first six months had gone rather well—and really, how long could that continue? If neither of them did long relationships (or relationships at all), how could this possibly last? When would Barney decide he missed his old life, where he was unattached and free to do as he pleased? Surely even a weight as awesome as Robin couldn't be borne forever.

So, in an effort to prevent herself from slipping any further down this dangerous slope, Robin was betting on Barney's nostalgia kicking in right about now… And maybe this way she wouldn't get hurt.

Robin was startled (thank god—something had to break her mind out of this tailspin) from her reverie by a knock at her door. Glancing at her watch and reading one a.m. Robin frowned, but made her way to the visitor. The view through the peephole afforded her a glimpse of a very well-tailored suit…

"Barney, what are you doing here?" she asked, genuinely surprised (and entirely unsure of what to do now) as she opened the door.

Barney smiled goofily (Robin was guessing twelve glasses of scotch goofy) from his position against the doorframe. "Thanks for the warm welcome, Scherbatsky—not going to invite me in?"

Robin stood back obediently (she was still a bit thrown off, after all) and Barney plopped down on her couch. "I thought you had a bachelor party…"

"Did," Barney yawned. "It's over now, and I haven't seen you all day, so here I am."

He reached out to pull her down to the couch, but she remained standing. "I'll…" she faltered. "I'll be right back."

"'Kay…" Barney smiled again, leaning back amongst the cushions.

Robin frowned again, hurrying into her bedroom. Pulling out her phone, she sent a message to Ted and Marshall… _'Well? How did it go?'_

_'You lost the bet, Robin—but isn't that a good thing?' _Ted replied first. Robin (fiercely competitive though she was) felt the first inkling of relief…

_'Well, it was awful as usual, but Barney was a perfect gentleman,'_ was Marshall's response.

Robin hadn't realized how tense she had been, but with such confirmation her shoulders slackened considerably. She had been so convinced that Barney wouldn't be able to make it through the night without a relapse of sorts… But then, was that certainty due to Barney, or her own hang-ups?

Still unsure of how she felt or what she ought to do, Robin walked slowly back to the living room. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of Barney dozing peacefully along the couch. Though she knew she sounded like Ted (painful), she couldn't stop her brain from mulling over the idea that even if she lost the bet, she just might have won…

"Sorry about that," Robin said softly, sitting carefully on an exposed stretch of cushion.

Barney opened his eyes blearily. "'S okay… What were you doing? Putting on something nice under that sweater…?"

"Maybe later," she hit him playfully on the shoulder.

Barney smirked appreciatively, but it turned into another yawn. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm so tired…"

"Getting old, can't party like you used to," Robin quipped.

"Ouch," Barney said, feigning a dagger to the heart. "Come here already, would you?"

Robin allowed herself to be pulled down this time, being rewarded with a quick but tender kiss. They weren't much for cuddling as a rule, but tonight it felt completely natural to stretch out, entwined on the sofa. Maybe Barney was too tired and more than a little drunk and she was still distracted by her rapidly spinning mind. Yes, that must be it.

It wasn't long before Barney's eyes had drifted closed again and Robin was left alone again with her thoughts. She didn't like to contemplate these things often—after all it was confusing and built up expectations and nine times out of ten she ended up lost. But maybe every so often it was necessary…

Though they still hadn't put voice to any more meaningful feelings, Robin had been toying with (when not ignoring or running from) the idea of love for some time. But she was realizing now that her doubts had been over a different but equally important element… She might trust Barney completely as a friend (he was more loyal than a Saint Bernard, after all), but as a boyfriend (shouldn't there be a more awesome word for that classification?) she hadn't been so sure… She had never really let go of the idea that this was going to be too hard, too difficult to make work.

But lying here now, even her heart felt safe.

* * *

Robin woke early the next morning (force of habit), and carefully extricated herself from the couch and Barney before stumbling toward the shower.

Standing under the hot water, she couldn't ignore the feeling that something had changed. And it might scare her to death (to _death_), but it was kind of invigorating as well…

In the light of morning and a fresh sense of calm, Robin was also starting to feel a bit guilty. Yet even if Barney might never find out that she'd bet against him, she felt like she owed him something… As though maybe it was her turn to take the risk—and maybe she was just foolish enough to do it.

Before she could change her mind, she ran her finger through the condensation on the mirror.

* * *

Robin had already dressed and made coffee and bagels before Barney stirred from his place on the couch. A suggestive 'good morning' thrown her way, he too headed for the shower.

Forcing herself to wait a few minutes, Robin eventually made her way to the bathroom. Barney was just stepping out of the shower as she appeared in the doorway.

"Well hello," he smiled easily, "care to join me in here?"

"Already showered, Barney," she said, hoping she was hiding her apprehension. She hadn't expected this to be so nerve-wracking (where was her news anchor calm?).

Barney shrugged and headed to the sink and his razor. Robin waited for what seemed like eons for him to look in the mirror and register her message, rewritten with fresh steam.

Finally Barney turned around, a wide grin stretched across his face. "Let's get married!" he cried.

If Robin was anxious before, now she was doused in cold water.

Barney laughed at her wide eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he grinned, drawing her to him. "I love you, too, Robin."

Robin felt herself relax—maybe she deserved that after everything she had put him through half a year past. But as much as it had freaked her out then, wrapped in a tight hug now, reading her own admission written plainly—it just felt nice. Surprisingly not scary at all (well maybe just a little bit scary—but that was probably normal).

"I love you," she whispered, testing it out on her tongue. She was squeezed ever more closely in response.

Yea, it felt nice (it felt _legendary_).

* * *

_To be continued…_

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I've been frightfully busy. Yet in honor of the premiere this Monday I thought I'd put up a little something… not sure I'm entirely happy with it, but I hope you enjoyed—please let me know what you thought!**


	8. How Many Roads

**Author's Note: If anyone is still interested in reading this story, please allow a million apologies for my being so incredibly lax in updating. I have, at the ready, the usual excuses of a busy life running away with all of my time—all true, I assure you. I must also say that I found this past season of our beloved show less than inspiring… Nevertheless, here I am feeling I should at least attempt to give this story a proper conclusion. If things don't once again get away from me entirely, I'd like to do a few more chapters… **

**That being said, I have a bit of a predicament—where we left off, our favorite couple had finally solidified their feelings for each other. Now, I began this story before the last season kicked off… But aside from some timing issues, I don't think it ever got so AU as to fly completely in the face of canon (let's be honest, the actual episodes weren't exactly rich in the detailed explanations department—most of these things could have happened at one point or another before Barney and Robin called it quits). Although I'm not a huge fan of how the relationship was handled overall, I recognize the need for a little drama, so I'm willing to go with the track of this past season in order to stay as true to the "real" story as possible… I had planned to start taking skips and jumps into the more distant future, anyhow, so hopefully it won't seem like too huge of a clash. **

**Now then, I think it's high time I stopped babbling and got to the meat of things. Further apologies if this isn't up to snuff—I'm still woefully out of practice. I do hope you enjoy, though—happy reading!**

**

* * *

**

**_How Many Roads_**

_

* * *

_

_Blowin' in the Wind_

_How many roads must a man walk down_

_Before they call him a man?_

_How many seas must a white dove sail_

_Before she sleeps in the sand?_

_How many times must the cannon balls fly_

_Before they're forever banned?_

_The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind_

_The answer is blowin' in the wind._

_How many years must a mountain exist_

_Before it is washed to the sea?_

_How many years can some people exist_

_Before they're allowed to be free?_

_How many times can a man turn his head_

_And pretend that he just doesn't see?_

_The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind_

_The answer is blowin' in the wind._

_How many times must a man look up_

_Before he can see the sky?_

_How many ears must one man have_

_Before he can hear people cry?_

_How many deaths will it take till he knows_

_That too many people have died?_

_The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind_

_The answer is blowin' in the wind._

_The answer is blowin' in the wind._

_

* * *

_

Strictly speaking, summer has never been Barney's preferred season. For one thing, it makes wearing a suit rather difficult (suiting up sweaty—much harder to pull off with anything approaching aplomb). In his earlier years (before his evolution into true awesomeness), summer also tended to hold a few too many empty promises and disappointments.

But there's something about summer that works for him and Robin.

Maybe the heat addles her Canadian brain. Or perhaps there's just something in the season that makes everything easier—as though the universe was commanding everyone to relax their iron grip on what is and what should be.

There was _their_ summer, of course. The summer where they were together, but not _together_—the summer before expectations and definitions and the pressure to somehow live under the rules set out by social convention.

(And really, when had they ever done anything according to someone else's code of conduct?)

Nevertheless, the subsequent fall, winter, and spring punished them for having a summer so unusually good (and it was _good_). Take too many pennies from the tip jar and get your hand slapped, his mother always said.

* * *

The summer after their summer—the summer after _Don_—paled in comparison to the other summers, but Barney marked its importance with a drink (or two or twenty).

One particularly warm evening (the kind where Barney has to give in and loosen his tie), their friends inexplicably left them alone in MacLaren's at the end of the night. This was something they (Lily, especially, that most meddlesome of meddling meddlers), had taken pains not to do for the better part of a year.

Why they (or _she_) saw fit to do so now, Barney would never understand (and never be more grateful for).

Despite the small reparations made to their friendship, Robin had not had quite enough to drink to avoid looking uncomfortable. Barney, for his part, had had just enough to know the time for ignoring the reason for that uneasiness had long since passed.

"I'm sorry about Don," he broke the silence that had sprung up between them. A particular silence he could hardly remember ever having experienced with Robin.

Robin quirked an eyebrow at him, taking a moment to polish off her beer before answering (Barney was reminded of those ludicrous Twix commercials—though he, too, could probably use such a handy cover as breathing room to sidestep his own blunders…)

"That was almost two months ago, Barney," she finally answered, levelly enough (though Barney saw the flash in her eye that signified armor at the ready).

"Still, I never really said so," he almost mumbled into his glass.

They lapsed into silence once more, though perhaps less wary and more contentious (an improvement, Barney thought).

"Perhaps because you didn't mean it?" Robin asked, not looking at him.

Barney knew he deserved that, but still, it stung. "Of course I do, Scherbatsky," he tried to scoff, but it didn't come off so well. Robin only raised her eyebrows higher. "I… I know he made you happy, I just…" he trailed off, unable to complete the sentence (just wished you were happy with me).

"Just had to act like an ass?" Robin supplied, though Barney thought he detected a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"It _is_ my favorite pastime, after all," Barney readily agreed (no use denying it), taking another sip of his scotch. "But I'm sorry I hurt you, and not just then," he added seriously.

There, he'd said it.

"We've been through this, Barney," Robin sighed.

Vulnerability really wasn't their thing, was it?

"I should have realized that what I was doing… that you were upset," he plowed forward, liquid courage coursing through his veins.

"Why didn't you?" Robin asked, voice growing almost imperceptibly smaller (_almost_—he was an expert in her voices, loud and soft). Barney wanted to look at her (or at least thought he should), but as if by mutual agreement they where having this overdue conversation through the impartial proxy of the worn wooden table.

"You put up a good front, you know," Barney almost chuckled. "I should have known the difference, but I bought into it instead… It seemed easier to believe you were okay when I definitely was not," another long swig (his reward for difficult admissions), "and I guess I just… overcompensated."

"I'll say," Robin drew her hands into her lap. "I guess we were both pretty good at believing we were the only ones hurting."

Barney smiled ruefully, finally daring to look up. Meeting her eyes, he hoped she understood that there were so many times that he should have set the record straight, and couldn't; so many opportunities to admit this entire year had been one long con, and yet whenever he came close he just built upon the lie.

It was too easy (the lie always was).

They finished their drinks in silence—now laced with a reassuring familiarity—before Robin stood to leave.

"See you tomorrow?" Barney offered.

"See you tomorrow," Robin smiled.

Summer couldn't erase the past three seasons (though Barney would give up all of his suits to do so—and the thought didn't even give him the usual chill). But this summer could put them back to rights for the next fall, winter, spring.

Summer must have known—they couldn't have gone on like that much longer.

* * *

And now, here they were. Two summers after their summer. One summer after the summer that followed Don and somehow made impossible conversations possible (possimpible).

Here they were… somehow (thankfully), inexplicably (wonderfully), in bed.

Barney wasn't quite sure _how_ it happened, but he was quite sure of how it _didn't_ happen.

This time, there were no misunderstood advances, was no desperate need of comfort, were no heartfelt declarations.

They'd done all of that, and then some.

This time was different.

Though he'd never seen it coming (what he'd hoped for, dreamt of—that was a different story, and not an altogether clean one), this seemed _inevitable_.

That moment in the bar, in the previous summer, when they'd been able to stop being Barney and Robin long enough to be _Barney and Robin_ again—it had been a turning point of sorts.

Barney felt he'd finally exited through a revolving door of repeated mistakes (though he was sure to make a few more).

A year spent renewing their friendship without anyone really taking notice was just the type of subterfuge they needed.

The thing was, they were doing it without really realizing it themselves (funny, how inattentive they had become).

July came hard and fast, scraping at the tolerable limits of heat and humidity with a feral urgency. With that came hastily planned trips to the beach—_any_ beach—in a last-ditch attempt to find a remedy for the baking sun.

This particular weekend found the group in the Hamptons at Barney's insistence (bathing suits might count, but he wanted his Valentino pinstripe to feel too out of place once he was out of the water). With Ted off chasing a girl with a red balloon (Barney didn't ask—yet) and Lily and Marshall taking advantage of the bed and breakfast's full service spa (at Marshall's suggestion, mind you), Barney and Robin were left to their own devices.

Perhaps that was the first necessary ingredient.

"C'mon, Barney," she'd said as they walked off the pier, "buy me something cold."

Barney had obliged with a double scoop, chocolate and peanut butter ice cream cone. He could have sat with her on that porch swing—watching her catch every sweet drop with her tongue, coming closer than Robin Scherbatsky ever came to girlish giggling—forever (and it wasn't just because of the prodigious skill she showed at licking away every last bit of her little treat).

"For a native of the great white north, you do sun-kissed well," he'd said huskily, using all of his willpower not to push her windblown hair behind her ear and trace the new smattering of freckles across her cheek to her rosy pink nose (never say Barney Stinson had no self restraint).

The same could not be said for Robin, however (a fact Barney would likely rub in her face, if he wasn't so… distracted).

"You've brought the beach home with you," she'd murmured in response, eyes locked on his as her thumb followed the curve of his exposed bicep, gently brushing off the sand that clung stubbornly to his skin.

The world had seemed to blur around them, the air vibrating in expectation of an event neither of them planned or prepared for.

As though following some invisible, instinctual signal, their lips had met squarely in the space between them. There had been no sign of hesitation, no tentative explorations—just smooth, confident hunger, as though the past year had never happened (oh, but if only that were true).

She still tasted like chocolate.

Barney would never be able to explain what it was about that moment—that _exact_ moment—that made it possible for him and Robin to find each other again. Maybe it was getting out of the city into a new place where it was easier to abandon habit. Maybe it was that fantastical kismet Ted was so fond of.

Barney still blamed (or blessed) the heat.

What followed was a haze of stumbled steps up creaking stairs, hastily discarded clothing, sweet luxury of Egyptian cotton sheets and Robin's smooth, ocean-salted skin.

Now, in the gathering twilight of this late summer evening with Robin dozing beside him, Barney waited for the usual tendril of doubt, fear, and panic to wend its way through his mind.

Yet it never came.

They'd said they still loved each other, hadn't they? They'd been wrong about two friends getting back together (or, at least, it had taken a lot longer than they'd expected), but Barney suspected they weren't wrong about that most primary of points (maybe had never _stopped_ being wrong about that, much as they might be damn good at hiding it).

Robin stirred, pulling herself up to join Barney where he leaned against the headboard.

"I don't want to screw this up again," she said softly, staring straight ahead (why they couldn't face these conversations head-on, Barney wasn't sure).

"Me either," Barney responded, training his gaze on his feet.

"I don't think we'd come back from it," Robin continued.

Barney knew they wouldn't. There was no denying what this meant—what being _here_ again meant. After the past two years, how could they ride that (not so merry) merry-go-round again? Surely it was bound to spit them out irreparably broken the next time?

"Maybe we won't screw it up…" Barney offered.

"It's us," Robin said simply.

Barney couldn't argue with that.

"Maybe we just… did it wrong last time," he said instead. "Somewhere along the way it stopped feeling like us."

Barney could see Robin nodding in his peripheral vision. "I don't think the awesomeness cancelled out, I think we didn't let it work properly. It was like… like we were living some other couple's version of a relationship."

"Some entirely _un-awesome_ couple," Barney agreed with a grin.

"But how do we not do that again? I've never been particularly good at avoiding past mistakes," she said sardonically.

"We can start by ignoring everyone else and their completely unfounded opinions—we're both good at that," Barney smirked, glad to see it elicited a wry laugh in return.

"Maybe we need our own Code," she joked.

"I do love to see my words in print," Barney agreed.

Their fingers found each other under the sheets, lightly entwining as the smiles slipped from their faces. "I guess we can't pretend anymore, can we?" Robin whispered.

"I don't want to," Barney said, surprising himself (never before had playing his usual round of make-believe seemed less appealing).

Stripped down, that's what they were (figuratively—he meant figuratively; _focus_, Barney).

Robin leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes closing contentedly. It was all the affirmation he needed.

Doing things their own way—why had they ever done it any differently?

Barney squeezed her hand gently, breathing in what felt like the first deep breath he'd had in years.

Summer might have to be his new favorite season—suits or not.

It was good to them.

* * *

**A/N: I'm afraid that might have been terribly rushed and simplistic, but I don't feel they're easily defined… Taking a cue or two from the song, of course, I felt it carried better in this sprinkling of impressions. **

**I suppose it just seemed to fit, for me, to sort of move them along in this way—I hope it works for you all as well! Your thoughts and suggestions are extremely welcome—so don't be shy, hit that review button!**


	9. The Days to Come

**Author's Note: Well, sorry for another delay, but at least it was considerably shorter than the last one! Thanks for sticking with me, and for the positive feedback (even after that obscenely long accidental hiatus)—enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

**_The Days to Come  
_**

_

* * *

_

_Leaving on a Jet Plane_

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go

I'm standing here outside your door

I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn

The taxi's waiting, he's blowin' his horn

Already I'm so lonesome I could cry.

So kiss me and smile for me

Tell me that you'll wait for me

Hold me like you'll never let me go.

I'm leavin' on a jet plane

I don't know when I'll be back again

Oh, babe, I hate to go.

There's so many times I've let you down

So many times I've played around

I tell you now, they don't mean a thing

Every place I go, I think of you

Every song I sing, I sing for you

When I come back, I'll wear your wedding ring.

So kiss me and smile for me

Tell me that you'll wait for me

Hold me like you'll never let me go.

I'm leavin' on a jet plane

I don't know when I'll be back again

Oh, babe, I hate to go.

Now the time has come to leave you

One more time let me kiss you

Then close your eyes, and I'll be on my way.

Dream about the days to come

When I won't have to leave alone

About the time, I won't have to say…

So kiss me and smile for me

Tell me that you'll wait for me

Hold me like you'll never let me go.

I'm leavin' on a jet plane

I don't know when I'll be back again

Leavin' on a jet plane

I don't know when I'll be back again

Leavin' on a jet plane

I don't know when I'll be back again

Oh, babe, I hate to go.

_

* * *

_

Robin shoved the twenty into the cabbie's hand. "Just give me five minutes," she gushed, already halfway through the revolving doors of Barney's building. She pointedly ignored her driver's annoyed reply, already fading behind her (if only he'd let her drive).

"Morning, Dave!" Robin called to the slumbering doorman, nodding off at his post.

"Miss Scherbatsky," Dave spluttered awake. "It's…" he paused, looking at his watch, "It's only—"

"Five a.m., Dave!" Robin finished as the elevator doors slid shut. She hurriedly pushed the button for Barney's floor (couldn't this thing go any faster?). Early as it was, Robin was well aware that she ought to be halfway to the airport by now. She'd told herself she just needed that one t-shirt (the worn in one with Cookie Monster on it, if you wanted specifics) but if she was being honest with herself (easier said than done) she just wanted to see _him_ again.

"Come on, come on…" she cursed under her breath. What was it about living on the top floors that was supposed to be so good, exactly?

The unending elevator ride was giving Robin far too much time to dwell (never a good sign—Robin was usually quite good at pushing unwanted thoughts aside. It was when she couldn't that she knew she was in trouble). Swirling, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind was the conversation she'd had with Lily last night…

_"I'm going to miss you soooo much, Robin," Lily had said for the millionth time, latching herself onto Robin's shoulders, already a good bit tipsy._

_"I'll be back, Lily," Robin had said, smiling at her friend's antics and extricating herself from the smaller woman's surprisingly strong grip._

_"But when?" Lily practically whined. Robin was going to have to talk to Marshall about watching her beer intake—since their son was born, Lily had lost some of her (in)famous tolerance._

_"I still don't know," Robin sighed, looking around the bar with unexpected nostalgia._

_"That's exactly my point," Lily insisted. "I don't like relying upon the people of Sudan to stop fighting just for you to come home…"_

_"They don't have to stop fighting for my assignment to be over," Robin explained (not for the first time)._

_"Are you sure Barney's okay with this?" Lily asked skeptically (also not for the first time)._

_Robin followed Lily's gaze over to their usual booth, where the guys were laughing over something one of Ted's students had said. "He's fine, Lils, he encouraged me to take the job."_

_"This is _Barney_ we're talking about," Lily's frowned, "he doesn't like change—especially not when it involves you going halfway around the world for indefinite amounts of time."_

_"Maybe not," Robin replied, trying to stay resolute (he'd been supportive—there was nothing suspicious about that, was there?). "But he understands that this is a huge opportunity for me—a chance to do serious journalism." It was what she'd wanted for a long time._

_"This is the same guy who brought _me_ back to New York to be with Marshall," Lily went on, unperturbed. _

_"We aren't you and Marshall," Robin reminded her friend (and thank god they weren't)._

_"I just want you guys to be okay," Lily smiled affectionately._

_"We are…" Robin smiled back. (She hoped.)_

The unnaturally loud 'ding' of the doors stirred Robin from her reverie. She shook her head, wishing the action would clear the weight that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

Fumbling with the key in her purse, Robin hesitated at the door. They'd already said their goodbyes last night (and it was quite a send-off). Even though Robin had to do a great deal of her packing from Barney's apartment, they'd agreed she'd spend the night at her own place. Some bizarre logic about her having to get up so early and shouldn't they just say goodbye this way, when they were both relatively lucid (and could do it up _properly_).

And yet, here she was, hand poised on the doorknob.

"_Screw it_," Robin muttered under her breath, entering the apartment as quietly as possible. She tiptoed, making a beeline for the closet. (If she looked at his sleeping form, she wasn't sure she'd have the resolve to leave. But no one needed to know that…)

The built in bureau door holding Barney's few t-shirts opened easily under eager fingers. She slipped her hand under the soft, well-loved cotton, searching for the shirt she wanted (honestly, who could sleep without their favorite t-shirt?).

As Robin found her target, her thumb hit something hard. Curious, she lifted up the folds to find a small, blue box.

Now her heart was hammering (ten times worse than when she'd jumped across that alleyway those few years ago). All thoughts of her waiting cabbie, her flight, her premiere assignment, promptly left her head. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid, revealing a stunning platinum band laced with intricately cut sapphires and diamonds.

Robin tried to reason it was just one of Barney's lost props—a handy tool left over from the days of the Playbook. That was, until she saw the unique monogram that united a B and R stem to stem.

The same symbol Barney had been absently scrawling on napkins and takeout menus for weeks.

Robin's feet carried her in a daze out of the closet to stare from the man sleeping soundly in his bed to the little box in her hand.

It wasn't an engagement ring—it just wasn't—it couldn't be. (Hadn't they decided they weren't made for marriage? Wasn't that a given?)

(When was the last time they'd actually discussed it…?)

But… would she care if it were…?

That thought threatened to throw Robin for a complete loop around the whirligig. There was a time that she would have run for the door, feeling she couldn't fly far enough away. And yet, here she was, rooted to the spot.

Just as she was thinking that maybe she should just go (nothing like distance to think things over, right?), Barney rolled over in his sleep, arm splaying across the mattress as if it were searching for something missing.

And suddenly, Robin couldn't crawl into that bed fast enough.

He looked so much more peaceful when he slept—more… innocent (which was hard to imagine). Robin ran her fingers lightly across his temples, brushing past the speckling of gray hair she'd convinced him to allow to grow in (he was going to be silver fox one day, if she had anything to say about it). The soft motion stirred him, rewarding Robin with a sleepy grin.

"What are you doing here?" he asked sleepily. "Did I drink too much last night…?"

"I forgot the 'C is for Cookie' shirt," she whispered, allowing him to wind his arm around her waist.

"Is _that _all?" he asked (never missed an opportunity for a suggestive smirk, did Barney Stinson).

"Why are you okay with me leaving?" Robin blurted out (she had a bad habit of that, but it did often garner some useful information).

"I'm not _okay_ with you leaving," Barney replied, more awake now. "But I'm not going to hold you back from something so important to you."

"_You're_ important to me," Robin replied, surprised at her own honesty. (Where was this coming from? Since when did mysterious jewelry inspire anything but visions of shackles in her?)

"Do you want me to tell you not to go?" Barney furrowed his brow (if Robin weren't so on edge, she'd secretly find it adorable).

"No, I…" Robin didn't know what to say. She'd promised herself she'd never make a career decision because of a man _ever_ again.

Barney pulled her closer, ducking her head under his chin. "You know I'll miss you Scherbatsky," he said huskily, "but I'll still be here when you get back. And I hear reunited after a long separation sex is _awesome_."

Robin felt a smile twist her lips, and allowed herself a few more moments in his arms. She didn't know if he was just putting on a front, or why. Going on this assignment could be a huge mistake. That ring could be the first sign of a disaster waiting to happen. But for perhaps the first time in her life, Robin didn't really care.

She didn't care. It scared her, but she didn't. All that mattered was lying here, with him, for even ten more seconds. Five more.

Three… two…

One.

"I have to go," she murmured, "you should go back to sleep." She extricated herself from his arms, leaving him with a tender kiss. He smiled up at her as she stood, obediently allowing his eyes to drift shut contentedly.

Robin quietly let herself out of the apartment before hurtling towards the elevator. Nervous energy took over as she approached the ground floor, bouncing on the balls of her feet as the car descended.

The taxi was honking furiously as she ran through the lobby, hopping into the backseat. The driver fixed her with an annoyed glare, but she returned it in kind (she really loved having that at her disposal).

Wordlessly, the cabbie pulled away from the curb and into the steadily building traffic. She was on her way. She was _going_.

Robin leaned back on the cracked leather seat, glancing down at her open bag and the worn blue cotton peaking out.

She gently pulled the t-shirt out, drawing the soft material up to her face.

It still smelled like him.

Robin turned her gaze out the window, to the familiar buildings racing by as she left them behind. She watched them blur by in swaths of grey steel and glimmering glass, allowing a single tear to roll steadily down her cheek.

* * *

**A/N: Well I hope that wasn't too sappy or unresolved. To the former—I tried to keep them in character, but with some growth. And to the latter, I will probably continue with this little mini-plot, generally, for another couple of chapters. I do love this song—and it leant itself to a more literal interpretation, though hopefully not a boring one…**

**I welcome your thoughts!**


	10. Silver Wing on High

**Author's Note: In honor of Monday's premiere (or perhaps in spite of it—I guess we'll see how it turns out! ;) ), I thought I'd make a much-needed update to this story… There's just a couple more chapters after this one so I'll try to keep in line with whatever new things we learn on the show—luckily we're pretty firmly in the future now, so perhaps that won't be so hard.**

**Famous last words, right? By the way, this continues pretty closely from the last chapter, so keep that in mind… At any rate, I hope you'll enjoy this installment!**

**Disclaimer: Neither _How I Met Your Mother_ nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

**

* * *

**

**_Silver Wing on High_**

_

* * *

_

_Early Mornin' Rain_

In the early mornin' rain

With a dollar in my hand,

With an achin' in my heart

And my pockets full of sand,

I'm a long way from home,

And I miss my loved one so

In the early mornin' rain,

With no place to go.

Out on runway number nine

Big seven-o-seven set to go,

But I'm out here on the grass

Where the pavement never grows

Well, the liquor tasted good

And the women all were fast,

There she goes, my friends

She's a-rollin down at last…

Hear the mighty engines roar,

See the silver wing on high,

She's away and westward bound

Far above the clouds she'll fly,

Where the mornin' rain don't fall

And the sun always shines,

She'll be flyin' o'er my home

In about three hours time.

This old airport's got me down,

It's no earthly good to me,

'Cause I'm stuck here on the ground

Cold and drunk as I might be.

Can't jump a jet plane,

Like a freight train,

So I'd best be on my way

In the early mornin' rain…

So I'd best be on my way

In the early mornin' rain.

_

* * *

_

Aside from the infamous Lily-less interlude (and Barney had put a stop to _that_), it seemed it was always Robin who was leaving their little group.

Always Robin who went to some foreign country, or stopped coming to the bar, or made herself otherwise unavailable to their association. This pattern had come to bother Barney to an exponentially increasing degree as the years went on. (No matter that one or two of these absences were his fault…)

But this time, as Ted liked to point out, Barney had _let_ her go.

Barney gave up trying to explain to Ted that you didn't _let_ Robin Scherbatsky do anything. (Honestly, shouldn't he know that by now?)

Of course he hadn't _wanted_ her to go, but he wanted (or knew she should, or knew she wanted to, or understood he should want) her to go do this. Because this was an opportunity long overdue, and if they were going to make it together he was going to fight his instincts so that _they_ could be different than before.

But he missed her…

Finding that little blue box out in the open after she left had instigated a minor (okay, major) freak-out.

He hadn't meant for her to find that. Hadn't even been sure what he intended to do with it (and still wasn't, to be honest).

The only thing that stopped him from booking the next flight to Sudan (or possibly running in the complete opposite direction—which would be what exactly? Singapore?) and trying to sort things out was the hazy, sleep-filled memory of Robin crawling into bed the morning that she left… He was sure she'd gone just after—so if she'd found the ring (the ring that had no category, because they were in uncharted Barney-Robin-relationship—they really needed their own term—territory here)… If she'd found the ring and she hadn't immediately bolted, well that had to be a good sign, didn't it?

Or maybe she was just going to ignore it. They were both pretty good at turning a blind eye…

Still, he didn't bring it up (though he did take to carrying the ring in his pocket with a little capsule of sand she'd sent from outside her field tent—they were his constants in her absence… a poor substitution, really).

The first few weeks were sustained by late nights in MacLaren's with Ted, or vying (successfully, of course) for the role of favorite uncle with Marshall and Lily's little Benjamin.

No matter that his nephew did little more than laugh and grab tightly onto his pinkie (at least the kid recognized good humor when he heard it).

Barney blessed the inventor of Skype whenever Robin smiled up from his computer screen. (It didn't take long for him to connect the laptop feed to his giant TV.) Still, the conversations were few and far between, and were often beset by interlopers (seriously, couldn't their friends take a hint?).

So Barney clung to articles she wrote and video reports she telecast (there really was something sexy about her newscaster voice), collected the little tokens she mailed, and smiled broadly at the pictures meant just for him (particularly the one where her only garment was his Cookie Monster t-shirt).

But still, he _missed_ her.

Marshall worried that he was alone too much, what with the rest of them occupied so thoroughly (this really wasn't a good time for everyone to be so coupled off, was it?), but Barney insisted that he was fine (and took another long sip of his scotch).

He wished he knew when she was coming back. Somehow, that seemed like it would make the waiting easier if he knew the date the waiting would end.

His saving grace came to him at the most unexpected moment, when Ranjit was driving him around late one Friday afternoon (what? he had to at least pretend like he still had a life—keep up appearances, you know).

They were driving out by La Guardia (why exactly, Barney was too deep into his flask to wonder) when the big silver belly of a 707 passed overhead, glinting gold and red in the setting sun. Barney insisted that Ranjit pull over immediately, and watched it land with an inexplicable intensity.

For a minute he could almost make himself believe that she was on that plane, that she was on her way home, that she was coming back to him.

That was when Barney started watching the planes come in.

As often as he could manage it, he'd go somewhere that provided a good view—the ferry, the interstate, the park. It didn't matter, so long as he had those precious few seconds of imagined comfort.

He'd always been good at lying to himself—no use in letting a useful skill go to waste.

It got to be that watching them from a distance wasn't enough, so he started buying tickets. He rarely got on the plane, of course, but just to sit in the terminal (he missed the days when you could walk right up to the gate)… Watching the jetliners taxi up and the people pour off, or standing amongst the well-wishers in baggage claim—for a moment he could pretend he was one of them; that he, too, was waiting for that tear-filled reunion.

On one occasion he even bought flowers (he ended up giving them to the little indie kid waiting for his equally boho girlfriend—never say Barney wasn't an all-purpose wingman).

Thankfully, Barney had a history of hastily made and cancelled and rescheduled business trips that his odd behavior didn't raise any red flags (he really did have the _best_ job).

Once, he made the mistake of indulging in one of his little trips on the same day Lily was coming home from a teacher's conference (what kindergarten teachers had to conference about Barney wasn't entirely sure—but he wasn't telling Lily that). Marshall's now traditional marching band greeting almost provided enough cover for a quick and undetected escape, but damned if Marshall wasn't so tall as to pick Barney out.

"Barney, what are you doing here?" Marshall had asked as he bounced baby Benji on one hip.

"Just, uh… thought I'd welcome Lily home, too," Barney coughed with a hesitant smile.

"Oh… okay," Marshall shrugged with that goofy grin of his. "Well then take him, would you? It'll be easier to hold the sign," he said, carefully placing his son in Barney's arms and straightening his little cap (Barney couldn't even roll his eyes when he saw it matched his father's—it was official, he was becoming a sap).

Lily was a bundle of smiles as usual, giving Marshall a proper (or improper, judging by the look of the two elderly women walking by) greeting and taking Benjamin in her arms as Barney kissed her cheek.

It wasn't exactly the reunion he'd been rehearsing all these months, but it was real… And deep down, Barney recognized the difference.

It hurt, that admission.

That night, Barney couldn't sleep. At dawn he gave up and crawled out of bed, dressing as if on autopilot. It wasn't until he was halfway out the door that he realized he was wearing the gray wool suit that was Robin's favorite.

As Barney made his way to his favorite little observation spot across the water, the rain began to fall with a steady little pitter-patter against the windows. Rainy days were usually the worst for these little trips, because the flights would be delayed and visibility was bad (and his imagination could only carry him so far). But this was barely a drizzle—just enough to cover the morning in a frosted sheen.

Barney didn't care that he didn't have an umbrella; amazingly it didn't even cross his mind (shocking, really, given his choice of suit). He left the taxi, walked to his vantage point, and watched the planes fly by. He would hear them first, their deep rumble, then look up to feel the raindrops sprinkle his cheeks and mask any other moisture the careful observer might have found there, and watch them make their way.

He knew this was the last time he'd do this. At least, until she really was on that plane…

There was no substitute for the real thing, after all.

Until then, he'd just have to go on missing her.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not _at all_ sure about this one, but there you have it… Let me know what you think—Barney would feel much better if you'd hit that review button…!**


	11. From My Home

**Author's Note: Well these first few episodes have been… encouraging..? I've been enjoying them—and the possibilities they imply—on the whole, anyhow. And they make me feel that these next few chapters might still have a place in Barney and Robin's future, at least in my imagined version. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Neither _How I Met Your Mother_ nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

**

* * *

**

**_From My Home_**

_

* * *

_

_500 Miles_

If you miss the train I'm on, you will know that I am gone

You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles,

a hundred miles, a hundred miles, a hundred miles, a hundred miles,

You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.

Lord I'm one, Lord I'm two, Lord I'm three, Lord I'm four,

Lord I'm 500 miles from my home.

500 miles, 500 miles, 500 miles, 500 miles

Lord I'm five hundred miles from my home.

Not a shirt on my back, not a penny to my name

Lord I can't go a-home this a-way

This a-away, this a-way, this a-way, this a-way,

Lord I can't go a-home this a-way.

If you miss the train I'm on, you will know that I am gone

You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.

_

* * *

_

It wasn't like Robin to not have a plan.

She liked things to go as she expected, to follow through on the steps she'd laid out for herself. Not that she didn't enjoy playing the rebel now and again (because who wouldn't?), or that she needed everything to be perfectly in order.

But some kind of roadmap—it was comforting. Because when you weren't prepared, you got hurt.

Yet almost all of the most momentous events in her life—good and bad—had sideswiped her, taken her almost completely by surprise.

They weren't what she'd expected; they didn't fit into the future she'd imagined for herself.

Sometimes that hadn't been _so_ terrible… (She'd never expected to sleep with Barney that first time, had she? Of course, that took a long time to resolve itself back onto a highway even _near_ her roadmap.)

And here she was again, coming back to New York with even less of a plan than she'd left with.

When she'd taken the assignment, she hadn't known how long she'd be gone or what it would ultimately mean for her friendships… for whatever she and Barney had.

Still, she'd gone—and she was glad she did (most days, fewer nights). It was the right thing to do, and she was excited to be doing it. And yet there she stood, _finally _very firmly on the path she'd set out for her career, and sometimes all she wanted to do was pull off onto the shoulder.

She knew she'd miss everyone—she knew she'd miss _him_ whether she wanted to or not. She wasn't an automaton. But she thought she could outlast her feelings (because Robin rarely threw in the towel—especially to herself).

It turned out, though, that she could only distract herself with work and tide herself over with video chat for so long.

On the third hour of the twentieth day of the tenth month away, she packed her (one, pathetic, little) bag and didn't look back. She requested reassignment to New York (she'd picked up enough cred with the network by now, hadn't she?) as her train rolled into the capital, and she changed into the (by now even more well-worn) cookie monster t-shirt somewhere over the Atlantic.

Sitting in her seat on the plane, Robin tried to pay attention to the in-flight movie, but it couldn't hold her attention. She just keep watching the flight path on the back of the chair in front of her, the little icon moving steadily towards her home, taunting her with each mile ticked off the total distance remaining.

Robin wasn't quite sure what to expect when she arrived. She'd sent Barney a hasty e-mail and assumed he would meet her there.

She _assumed_…

Things seemed fine between them, such as they were. Of course, she could tell Barney's smile didn't quite reach his eyes every time—but if Marshall was to be believed, Barney was much more likely to seem like himself whenever he talked to her than on the days he didn't.

Perhaps Robin shouldn't have been surprised that Marshall turned out to be the most reliable source of information on Barney's relative well being. They did work together, after all… And Barney had been logging a surprisingly large amount of babysitting hours with Benjamin since she'd been gone (Marshall insisted he was actually better with babies than Ted, which Robin believed if only because Ted was still known to dust off an old architecture lesson for even the youngest of audiences—then again, babies slept a lot, didn't they?).

Robin suspected that Marshall was just more likely to have the opportunity to see a crack in Barney's façade (he was good, but he couldn't keep it up forever, surely); well, opportunity and that big gooey heart of his. Marshall really was an old softie (and Robin was grateful for that).

So when Marshall reported that Barney seemed to be adjusting well enough to her absence, after a few months of barely concealed gloom, Robin believed him—but she wasn't sure what to feel in response.

Was she so easy to forget? To push aside?

It wasn't as though Barney had been seeing anyone else. It wasn't as though they didn't talk every chance she had.

They were still _together_, in that way that only made sense to them.

But she didn't know if she could expect to come back and pick up where they left off… so much had changed while she was gone—the world went on without her (the _nerve_ it had).

And then there was that ring.

They'd never discussed it—not once. She knew Barney was aware that she'd found it, but he didn't bring it up. Yet sometimes she found herself wondering… wondering what it might be like to slip it on her finger, what it might be like to drive clean off the roadmap.

So it was that walking through the gate, down the terminal, into baggage claim… she still didn't have a plan.

Rounding that last corner, she had a final chance to make up her mind—to talk herself out of whatever crazy, impossible thought (hope?) was blooming there, to get back on track, to compose herself into the mentality that had served her well enough all these years.

But when she saw them—her best friends, waving welcome-home signs and streamers and flowers (even little Benji had balloons streaming from his stroller), she remembered all the unplanned moments that had led her to them. When she saw _him_ standing there with his hands in his pockets and a crooked grin stretching ever wider across his face, she didn't care about any grand strategy.

It was time for a new plan.

A _better_ plan.

A plan so awesome it could only be executed by the two most awesome people she knew (never mind that they debated who sat atop that list).

Robin came to stand in front of Barney, grinning madly at each other for a full beat before he pulled her into a bone-crushing, breath-stealing, heart-stopping hug.

"You stole my shirt," he whispered huskily into her ear.

"It looks better on me," she replied, nestling her head into the little hollow right next to his collarbone. Right where it belonged.

Barney's chuckle vibrated through her own chest as she pulled back slightly to look up at him. Why had she thought anything would change…?

_To hell with it_.

"So about that ring…?" she quirked her lip playfully (hopefully, so earnestly hopefully).

"Yea?" she could see the same playful (hopeful, really just unflinchingly hopeful) glimmer in his eye as he reached into his pocket. "This ring?"

Robin blinked at its sudden appearance. If he was carrying it around—then maybe, just maybe he was ready to veer off the road with her.

Maybe she wasn't losing control of her sanity after all.

"That's the one," Robin nodded, her smile only broadening as she saw their friends' jaws go slack while they looked on. (She and Barney would get a kick out of shocking them later.)

"I can think of a better place for it," he raised an eyebrow, almost challenging her (as always).

"Me too," she agreed, heart fluttering madly, lacing her fingers through his free hand. "Let's show them how it's done," she added with a wicked grin.

Barney slipped the ring carefully onto her finger, biting his lip as his own hand shook. He smiled goofily at her, "why would we ever do anything else?"

Lily, Marshall, and Ted were cheering so loudly they almost drowned out the whispered "_I love you, Scherbatsky_," Barney intoned as he pulled her to him once more.

Robin couldn't contain herself any longer—it should probably scare her, whatever they were doing, however fast she was racing into the unknown, but it didn't. She'd never felt more certain of anything in her life. All she wanted to do was kiss him with a reckless abandon she wasn't sure she still possessed.

So she did.

* * *

**A/N: I had a hard time with this one, too, but I hope it wasn't too painful. As always, let me know what you thought!**


	12. A Song to Sing

**Author's Note: I know, I know, I should update more frequently... I try, honest! I do thank you all for continuing to read and share your thoughts-it really makes me keep going!**

**I hope you won't feel cheated that I don't go through the wedding, exactly—though it is, in many ways, the center of this installment. But this story is about moments, and this felt like the best one to use to move things along... And the song—though not a literal connection as with some other chapters—is really rather joyous and hopeful, both emotions that I connect to how Barney and Robin might be feeling right now... I hope you'll enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Neither _How I Met Your Mother_ nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

**

* * *

**

**_A Song to Sing_**

_

* * *

_

_If I Had a Hammer_

If I had a hammer,

I'd hammer in the morning

I'd hammer in the evening,

All over this land

I'd hammer out danger,

I'd hammer out a warning,

I'd hammer out love between my brothers and my sisters,

All over this land.

If I had a bell,

I'd ring it in the morning,

I'd ring it in the evening,

All over this land

I'd ring out danger,

I'd ring out a warning

I'd ring out love between my brothers and my sisters,

All over this land.

If I had a song,

I'd sing it in the morning,

I'd sing it in the evening,

All over this land

I'd sing out danger,

I'd sing out a warning

I'd sing out love between my brothers and my sisters,

All over this land.

Well I got a hammer,

And I got a bell,

And I got a song to sing, all over this land.

It's the hammer of Justice,

It's the bell of Freedom,

It's the song about Love between my brothers and my sisters,

All over this land.

It's the hammer of Justice,

It's the bell of Freedom,

It's the song about Love between my brothers and my sisters,

All over this land.

_

* * *

_

"I got it," Robin brushed past Barney's outstretched hand to pick up her second suitcase even as she nudged the door to his apartment open with her foot.

Barney just raised his eyebrow with a bemused grin. He had to appreciate her willingness to support her own propensity for overpacking. Honestly, how many items of clothing did you really need in Saint Lucia? And on a honeymoon, no less? (Though, to be honest, there were a _few_ items he was extremely glad she brought along.)

"We have a package," he called after her retreating form, stooping to pick up the manila envelope with his free hand as he walked into the apartment.

"Is it from my Aunt Helen?" Robin's voice emerged from the bedroom. "Because she _said_ she was sending a wedding gift but I don't think she's ever forgiven me for shaving Fluffernutters..."

"No," Barney sloughed his bag off his shoulder and dropped it next to the end table. "But I'd like to hear _that_ story later." (If she succeeded in convincing him to get a dog—as she'd been trying valiantly to do lately—he'd have to remember to keep an eye on his razor…)

"So who's it from then?" Robin asked, falling onto the couch happily.

"Paul," Barney responded as he walked toward the kitchen, though the sofa did have a certain appeal to his travel-stiffened muscles. "My video guy," he clarified. "He sent over the unedited version of the wedding footage."

"Ooooh, let's watch," Robin was now perched up against the arm of the couch expectantly.

"Really?" Barney asked skeptically, collecting the glass of scotch he'd poured for himself. "Weren't you just complaining about how tired you are?" (Actually, Robin never came out and _said_ she was tired—but Barney knew her well enough to interpret the slightly manic 'I'm not exhausted, I'm fresh faced and fancy free' attitude for just the opposite.)

Robin scrunched her nose at him, but didn't bother to argue the point. She swiped his tumbler as he walked by, taking a long swig. "Everything from that day is a blur," she reasoned. "I'd like to actually see some hard evidence. Do _you_ remember it all?"

"I remember _you_," Barney answered huskily with a quirk of a smile, leaning from behind her to steal his drink back. Robin took the opportunity to capture his lips with her own (yep, that's _all_ he remembered).

"Come on, watching a video isn't a taxing activity, last time I checked," Robin took the DVD from his hands and popped it in the player. Barney acquiesced (as if he was ever really going to put up a fight) and sat next to her.

It never ceased to amaze him how subtly she melted into his side, every curve fitting _just so_ against his frame. They might not be big on cuddling, but this was better—_this _was instinctual and unfettered by convention. (Which, really, was just _them_ in a nutshell.)

"Look, there we are," Robin pointed (unnecessarily—he _had_ eyes) as Paul zoomed in on the wedding party at the altar. "_Damn_," she added appreciatively, "we look _good_."

Barney swallowed hard. "I think you may get more use out of that dress that you thought…" he muttered by way of agreement, trying not to let his imagination run away with him (oh, who was he kidding).

"As long as you're in that suit…" Robin agreed, not taking her eyes from the screen.

(God, how did he get so lucky?)

It was getting more difficult to concentrate on the video (or at least anything other than Robin in it), when the camera came to a stop on a reception table.

"Jesus, Paul," Barney sighed with exasperation, "does it really take two hands to go raid the buffet?"

"Wait," Robin held out a hand as Barney was about to fast-forward through Paul's food-fueled intermission. "Is that Marshall and Lily?"

"It _is_," Barney agreed, turning up the volume instead so they might hear the conversation at the next table (so to speak). "Oh, and look!" he exclaimed gleefully. "Ted is joining them!"

"This is weird…" Robin said after a few minutes of listening to their friends discuss their wedding candidly.

"Now I know what people mean when they talk about being a guest at their own funeral," Barney agreed at the vaguely icky feeling. (Though, why had _he_ never orchestrated that? _That_ could've been fun…)

He started to reach for the remote again, though he felt oddly reluctant. "Hold on," Robin stopped him once more. "Don't you want to know what they said?"

"Yea-huh," Barney agreed without hesitation (seriously, this woman was with him? It must be some kind of belated Christmas miracle).

_"So I guess we're never getting rid of Barney now," _video-Lily was saying.

_"You've never really meant that, have you 'Lil?" _video-Marshall frowned.

_"Of course not, baby," _and as Lily turned they could see the playful smile on her face. _"But I had to stand by my girl."_

_"Well she seems happy now," _video-Ted said, a little wistfully though not unkindly. _"I guess there was one thing she needed after all…"_

Marshall and Lily were regarding Ted with slight confusion, but he wasn't paying much mind, his attention having been pulled off camera. _"Wait a second," _Ted was half standing. _"Is that girl picking up the yellow umbrella..?"_

Ted was already scampering off even as Lily called after him, _"You've got to stop accosting these women, Ted! She might just be moving it!"_

(Barney made a mental note to ask what the hell they'd been talking about when they saw the gang later.)

_"Look at them out there…"_ Marshall said with that big goofy grin of his, looking out at the dance floor as an out-of-focus Barney and Robin floated into the frame.

_"They have no idea the rest of us are even here,"_ Lily followed his gaze. _"Why don't we dance like that anymore, Marshmallow?"_

_"Why don't we, Lilypad?"_ Marshall suggested, standing and extending his hand. Lily took it happily, waltzing out of view.

"Ted was right," Robin said softly, turning to face Barney. "There is one thing I need."

"What's that?" Barney asked, voice low.

Robin leaned forward until her lips grazed the bottom of his ear. "_You_," she whispered.

Barney's eyes closed heavily. "That dress is in your bag?" he asked, standing and pulling her to her feet (no time like the present to recreate the past, after all).

"Uh huh…" Robin nodded, flashing a devilish grin as her eyes darkened a shade or two. She walked slowly backwards, leading him along. "In the bedroom…"

Barney matched her smirk with his own (when did he not?), but paused just shy of their destination. "Aren't I supposed to carry you across the threshold or something?" he teased, not waiting for an answer before he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his hips with practiced ease. "Yup," he nodded at the self-satisfied look on her face, "that'll do."

And with that, they walked through the doorway leaving their video counterparts to sway along to the music behind them.

* * *

**A/N: Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you thought!**


	13. Days of Long Confessions

**Author's Note: Goodness, I don't know how I let this go on so long without an update..! Very sorry for that, of course, but I hope you'll enjoy this anyhow. We're skipping further into the future this time, so hold onto your hats!**

**Also, SPOILERS for the latest episode, **_**Bad News**_**—rather a sad one, wasn't it? But it did give me a bit of an idea for part of this chapter, which I hope will make sense… And one other thing—the names that I chose for Lily and Marshall's daughters are the ones Lily used in **_**Dowisetrepla**_** when imagining what raising a family in the prospective apartment might be like. Lily strikes me as the kind of girl who would have the names of her future children picked and ready, whether for a fantasy such as that or for the real deal…**

**Disclaimer: Neither _How I Met Your Mother_ nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!

* * *

**

_**Days of Long Confessions**_

_**

* * *

**_

_Too Much of Nothing_

Too much of nothin' can make a man feel ill at ease

One man's temper might rise, while the other man's temper might freeze.

In the days of long confessions, we can not mock a soul

When there's too much of nothin', no one has control.

Say hello to Valerie, say hello to Marion,

Send them all my salary, on the waters of oblivion.

Too much of nothin' can make a man abuse a king

He can walk the streets and boast like most but he don't know a thing.

It's all been done before, it's all been written in the book.

But when it's too much of nothin', nobody should look.

Say hello to Valerie, say hello to Marion,

Send them all my salary, on the waters of oblivion.

Too much of nothin' can turn a man into a liar

It can cause some man to sleep on nails, another man to eat fire.

Everybody's doin' somethin', I heard it in a dream

But when it's too much of nothin', it just makes a fella mean.

Say hello to Valerie, say hello to Marion,

Send them all my salary, on the waters of oblivion.

* * *

"_Marvin Benjamin Eriksen, get DOWN from there this instant!"_

Robin winced as Lily's patented kindergarten teacher bellow carried through into the hall. She glanced over at Barney, who just shrugged (altogether much too nonchalant for her taste) and knocked again.

"I always forget his first name is _Marvin_," Barney pretended to shudder (honestly, that was what concerned him, in the face of the impending insanity that was three small children?).

"Don't be heartless," Robin hit him in the arm, "you know he's named after his grandfather. Besides, like '_Barney_' is such a winner?"

"Hey!" Barney managed to look affronted. "I'm just saying the kid is lucky to go by his middle name. And I'll have you know that Barney is a first class, legendary name—even if we lost a little credibility with that stupid purple dinosaur."

Robin just rolled her eyes.

"Ben, listen to your mother…" Marshall was saying wearily as he finally opened the door. "Sorry, guys, I think Benji's outgrowing this place faster than we are," he smiled apologetically, ushering them into the cluttered apartment.

"_Uncle Barney!_" Ben exclaimed (in that frighteningly high-pitched squeal only employed by five-year-old boys) as he rushed up and grabbed Barney's hand. "Come see what I built in my room!"

"Do _you_ know what he built in his room?" Lily asked Marshall, following her son's progress with a furrowed brow.

"No idea, but Barney won't let him get away with anything too dangerous," Marshall reasoned as he bent over the playpen in the corner.

Robin was about to argue that Barney's definition of 'too dangerous' wasn't even in their (or any normal person's) ballpark, but was quickly distracted by the mass of red curls that had just barreled into her leg. "Hey there, Sepho," Robin smiled, picking up the three year old who giggled madly and thrust her little spaghetti sauce-covered hands onto Robin's cheeks.

"I wish you guys wouldn't call her that," Lily pouted, as she turned to take the newest edition to the family from Marshall's hands.

"'Persephone' is kind of a mouthful, Lily," Robin countered. "Isn't it, peanut?" Robin asked the little girl, who nodded enthusiastically. (Robin didn't pick favorites amongst her nieces and nephews, but if she did, Persephone knew how to play the game—always agreeing with Aunt Robin was definitely a winning strategy.)

"Oh, Robin, your pants…" Lily changed tack regretfully, getting a clear view of Robin's attire. Robin didn't have to look down to know she'd have suspiciously red handprints all over her jeans.

"Don't worry about it, Lils," Robin answered; she'd long since learned that babysitting at the Eriksens meant pulling out the 'I-don't-care-about-these-anymore' clothes (which made Barney's insistence on wearing a suit—and somehow managing keeping it clean—all the more infuriating).

"Your son is spending too much time with Ted," Barney pronounced with mock disgust, returning to the living room. "I think he's actually _worried_ that the walls of his fort aren't structurally sound."

"Oh, Marshall, does she feel hot to you?" Lily ignored Barney, holding their youngest out to her father.

Marshall (overprotective parent that he was always bound to be) quickly felt the back of his daughter's neck. "I think she's okay," he put on an over-big smile, "aren't you Daphne? Aren't you doing fine for _Da-da_?"

"_Ma-ma_ thinks you're a little hot," Lily frowned.

"Well _Da-da_ wouldn't lie, would he Daph?" Marshall countered (Robin rolled her eyes at this latest iteration of 'who would be the baby's first word?'—though she couldn't exactly blame Lily for trying so hard after Ben and Persephone's were both _Da-da_.)

"Oh would you two stop it, already," Barney sighed, exasperated, taking the infant from Lily's arms and pretending to toss her in the air, eliciting a happy little laugh. "_Bar-ney_," he imitated their speech, "thinks he and Aunt Robin can handle it. What do you think, Daphne? Can we handle it?" he pretended to toss her again.

Robin had to admit, for all of his protestations, Barney was actually incredibly good with kids (though maybe those particular declarations were just loudly voiced fears over accidentally having kids of his own, rather than kids in general). Of course, the man really was just a big kid himself…

Lily was looking dubious, however, forcing Robin to step in. "Seriously, Lily, we'll be fine," she smiled reassuringly, "so go before you're late for your dinner reservation."

"We've been through this twice before, Lils," Barney agreed, handing them their coats one-handed. "First time away from baby is always the hardest, but it's time to have _fun_ again, _if you know what I mean_—and your husband's all suited up for the occasion," he continued to shoo them towards the door. "But unless you want to do this a fourth time, for God's sake use a condom!"

"But I—" Lily continued to protest as Barney waved Daphne's hand goodbye.

"We'll be _fine_," Robin repeated (the only way to do this, they'd learned, was tag-teaming the pair of them). "Go paint the town red."

And with that, Robin closed the door on Marshall and Lily's concerned faces, waiting until she heard their resigned footsteps to turn back to the room at large.

"Well done, Scherbatsky," Barney nodded approvingly. "I think that's a record-setting time."

"I guess by the point you get to the third kid, detachment isn't so hard," Robin grinned, surveying the mess before her and quickly reaching to pull Persephone's sticky fingers from her hair.

_On the other hand_, she thought, _maybe they were too quick to get rid of the parentals…

* * *

_

Robin had promised Lily that when it came to _her_ babies, she wouldn't have any problem loving them. And to Robin's distinct amazement (she was always afraid she'd have to make at least _a little_ effort to actually like the little tykes), this had been completely and utterly true. Sure, this night proven once again that Robin didn't have enough disposable clothing, suffered from an entirely too sensitive scalp, and had an apparent mental block against watching her language—but by the time she and Barney had everyone fed, bathed, and in bed, she was ready to pronounce them perfect little angels.

(Though, to be fair, when they were sleeping it was easy to forget the propensity for terror.)

And now that Ted was having kids, too, (even as she and Barney had become babysitters of choice—though their egos were healthy enough to enjoy that Lily and Ted would fight over them come Saturday night) and Robin _still _wasn't freaking out … It had to give her pause.

She _loved_ her life (thoroughly enjoyed the hell out of it, actually). She had a great job, awesome husband (it still made her giggle to call him that—because who would've thought?—but he nevertheless was just _awesome_), and nothing to worry about (most days).

But was there ever a time that nothing to worry about became, in fact, _something_ to worry about very much..?

"All quiet on the Benji front…" Barney smirked, closing the boy's door behind him as he came to stand next to Robin, pulling her from her thoughts. "How're we doing over here?" he whispered, slinging an arm around Robin's shoulders and following her gaze into the girls' room.

"I'm staging an intervention if they think about having a fourth," Robin joked (would she really? would she really mind having another little niece or nephew running around?).

(Good lord, where had her sense run off to..?)

"And to think they might never have had these three at all…" Barney reflected softly.

Robin twisted to look up at him directly. "What're you talking about?"

"Remember when Marshall and Lily were going to see my esteemed fertility doctor doppelganger?" Robin nodded. "Well," Barney gave a lopsided grin, "I switched the tests."

"You did _what_?" Robin raised her eyebrows (and thankfully remembered to keep her voice low).

"When they left me in the good doctor's office, I figured I might as well test the plumbing, see what I had to contend with," Barney smiled, self-satisfied, "as if there was ever any doubt that my little swimmers were Olympic athletes."

"_No_," Robin mocked, "blasphemy to suggest that the great Barney Stinson be anything but God's gift to virility."

Barney narrowed his eyes at her. "_Anyway_," he went on, "I was trying to convince Marshall to play in that laser tag tournament, if you'll recall—and when I was there, I took a peek at his test."

"Barney, that's—" Robin started to admonish him, but he held up a finger.

"I just wanted to see what they'd be dealing with," Barney argued. "And… the scores weren't great."

Robin pondered this skeptically (especially considering the three kids she'd just spent her evening corralling).

"I'm not saying it was pigs-flying-impossible," Barney read her expression. "It just wouldn't have been easy. So I switched my results—which were, of course, stellar—with his. It was pretty easy to get past the nurses when you look like their employer."

"What if they'd never been able to get pregnant?" Robin asked.

"They would've figured it out eventually," Barney shrugged. "Or gone for a second test, or adopted—which would've been fine, too. But I didn't want them to give up hope."

Robin fought back a smile (manipulative or not, it was a nice gesture). "And you never said anything?"

"Well then Marshall's dad died," Barney looked away from her. "And he never admitted it, but it seemed even more important to Marshall to have his own kids after that… And then they had Ben, so…"

Robin cocked her head to the side, unable to keep the smile hidden as she slipped her arm around his waist. "That's actually kind of sweet, Barney…"

"No need to sound so surprised," he responded, though she could hear the grin in his voice without looking at him.

They stood in the doorway for a few minutes in silence, watching Persephone and Daphne sleep on peacefully.

"Do you ever think we were wrong?" Robin whispered into the stillness (part of her couldn't believe she was actually going to say this out loud, part of her was screaming to just _stop talking_ because once this can of worms was open…).

"Us? Wrong?" Barney said lightly. "About what?"

"Wrong to be so anti-baby…" she answered (well, no turning back now).

Barney was quiet for a moment, before turning to look at her, a searching expression on his face. "Do you?" he countered.

Robin sighed, backing into the hallway and walking towards the living room. "I don't know, not usually, but…"

"Is that what's been bothering you lately?" Barney asked, putting a plastic dump truck on the floor and pushing a few Barbies aside to join her on the couch.

"What?" Robin looked over at him, hugging her knees to her chest (and here she'd thought she was so good with hiding her emotions—but not with him, apparently).

"Last couple weeks you've seemed… I don't know, distracted. A little distant," Barney watched her carefully.

"I guess I've just been wondering if I made a mistake thinking I didn't want kids," she mumbled. "Except I don't think I did—I just… I think I'm supposed to think that I did..?"

"According to who?" Barney raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't be the first woman not to have or want kids."

Robin looked up at him, wondering if there was a silent '_thank God_' in his words somewhere. He might be good with kids, but she couldn't shake the memories of him being petrified at the prospect of having his own. (Of course, that was a long time ago… when they weren't together, when he was sleeping around like it was his job…)

She was caught somewhere between wondering if she was limiting his options, or if he was limiting hers. When, on paper, they'd always wanted the same thing… (It was official, she'd lost it. Didn't they _still_ want the same thing? Or had they just written the future too soon?)

"Do you still not want any?" Robin asked tentatively (best to just be direct). "Kids, I mean?"

Barney was silent for a moment (so she knew he was actually considering his answer—which, on balance, was a little nerve-wracking). "I'm happy the way things are," he said slowly. "But if you aren't, then I'm pretty sure two awesome people such as ourselves can find a way to fix that."

Robin let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding (and man, did the rush of air to her lungs ever feel good). "I'm happy," she smiled, nudging herself closer to him on the couch (she couldn't stand to have him thinking he didn't make her happy).

"So you don't think we made a mistake?" he asked quietly, inches away now.

"Maybe I just let my head run away from me," she grinned (she was always drawn in by those blue eyes of his). "Social pressures of getting older and all that," she nudged him in the ribs, teasing him for being four years ahead of her in that game. "Maybe I'm just surprised at how much I like being an aunt…"

"Well you're a pretty awesome aunt," Barney smiled.

"I am, aren't I?" Robin's grin widened. (That was probably what surprised her more—she really never thought she'd be any good at it… At all.) "You're not such a bad uncle, yourself."

"It's a gift," he smirked.

"And we do get all the best parts this way," she reasoned (because, honestly, she still cringed just passing a crying baby at the grocery store—and if she still felt a little sorry for _those_ parents... maybe she was just letting herself go crazy over nothing).

"Oh, we've definitely played the system perfectly," Barney agreed as she nestled into his side. "But if you ever change your mind…" he trailed off, uncertainly.

"Thanks… But I don't think I will," she laced her fingers into his (it never ceased to amaze her how much she just needed to talk things through sometimes—or how much her life-long habit of holding things under wraps could cost her sanity). "I don't know when I stopped trusting my own judgment."

"Probably around the time Sepho and Emma got you wrapped around their little fingers," Barney chuckled deep in his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"I'm not that bad," she insisted, swatting his thigh (though Robin would one day admit that Ted's daughter was even better than Persephone at getting what she wanted out of her Aunt). "Besides, you don't really want to have this argument—not when I have the Benji trump card."

"Oh, you think so?" Barney countered. "I'll bet—" he began, but Robin cut him off with a swift and lingering kiss.

Barney quirked his jaw as she pulled away. "What was that for?"

"You need a reason now?" Robin asked wryly.

"Good point," Barney conceded, grinning wickedly as he pressed her back onto the cushions.

Robin grinned right back, twisting her fingers into his hair as they joined in the time-honored tradition of babysitters everywhere.

(No, being an aunt wasn't bad at all.)

* * *

**A/N: Just one more chapter and an epilogue after this… I'll try to be a bit quicker this time! As always, reviews are most appreciated—I'd love to know your thoughts!**


	14. A Secret You Can Tell Everyone

**Author's Note: Well I owe you all a huge apology once again—I really didn't anticipate taking so long to update. I don't want to make excuses, but time and inspiration really are fickle mistresses, eh? ;) I hope this new chapter will make up for the delay at least a little bit, and that you all will enjoy!**

**(Some SPOILERS for recent episodes.)**

**Disclaimer: Neither _How I Met Your Mother_ nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!

* * *

**

**_A Secret You Can Tell Everyone_**

_**

* * *

**_

_Day is Done_

Tell me why you're crying, my son

I know you're frightened, like everyone

Is it the thunder in the distance you fear?

Will it help if I stay very near?

I am here.

And if you take my hand my son

All will be well when the day is done.

And if you take my hand my son

All will be well when the day is done.

Day is done, Day is done

Day is done, Day is done

Do you ask why I'm sighing, my son?

You shall inherit what mankind has done.

In a world filled with sorrow and woe

If you ask me why this is so, I really don't know.

And if you take my hand my son

All will be well when the day is done.

And if you take my hand my son

All will be well when the day is done.

Day is done, Day is done

Day is done, Day is done

Tell me why you're smiling my son

Is there a secret you can tell everyone?

Do you know more than men that are wise?

Can you see what we all must disguise

through your loving eyes?

And if you take my hand my son

All will be well when the day is done.

And if you take my hand my son

All will be well when the day is done.

Day is done, Day is done

Day is done, Day is done

* * *

"Guess who I ran into at work the other day," Robin said (a bit too carefully) as she nestled into the couch with two glasses of (liberally spiked) eggnog.

"Who?" Barney asked, stoking the fire (he really was not meant to exist in sub-freezing temperatures) and joining her.

Robin took an exaggeratedly long sip of eggnog before answering. "You remember Nora..?"

Barney raised an eyebrow. "Nora who?" (Of course his real question was _Nora, what did she say? _Or _Nora, where is this going?_ Or maybe _Nora, when would she like to kill me—or at least hurt me badly, because she probably deserves to? _Or simply _Nora, why bring this up now?_)

Robin, for her part, just stared him down levelly.

"Oh, fine," Barney gave in (he always gave in too easily with Robin). "How's she doing?"

"Good," Robin shrugged. "Married, a couple kids… she had been working back in the London office, but she transferred back last month, apparently."

"Good for her," Barney drank deeply from his glass (thank goodness she got what she wanted).

"She asked about this," she held up her left hand, letting the finely cut stones sparkle in the glow of the fire.

"Well of course she did," Barney grinned smugly (he was still pretty proud of those rings), "I mean look at that rock."

"_Barney_," Robin swatted his arm. "You know, she actually wasn't that surprised when I told her we were married."

"Oh?" Barney mumbled.

"Nope," Robin said. "Not surprised at all."

"Hmm…" Barney nodded, noncommittally, staring into the fire. Although he preferred the 'family' vacations at the beach (co-championed by Lily), he had to admit that at least the ski trips (inserted every other year at Marshall and Robin's insistence—silly snow bunnies, what did they think they were all made of snow and ice?) did provide ample opportunities for fires—equally useful for cozy evenings and brooding stares.

(For the record, Ted had broken the tie and agreed that they alternate the vacation destination—which judging by the number of layers he wore even _inside_ the cabin, was a decision he'd lived to regret.)

Barney could feel Robin's eyes on him, but still he hesitated. "I was actually pretty honest with her—you know, before I lied."

"Why'd you lie…? You seemed to really like her," Robin asked (and really, he admired her for being able to ask these questions—and they'd been together for awhile now, not to mention the whole being married thing, of course—but damned if she didn't still sound a touch too vulnerable).

"Maybe I wasn't ready," Barney shrugged. "Maybe I was…" (he couldn't say 'scared,' could he?) "…scared," he finished (of course he could, this was _Robin_).

Robin nodded (he knew she understood that—it was one of the reasons they were perfect together).

"Maybe I was waiting for the right person to be scared _with_," he added (and just because he said it was a suggestive grin, that didn't mean it wasn't true).

"Well I for one am glad you waited," Robin said slyly, setting her eggnog on the table.

"Oh, are you?" Barney put his glass beside hers as she inched closer to him.

"Oh yea," Robin nodded again. "Gave us both time to get our heads on straight."

She was pressed against him now, whispering in his ear. His hands slid around her waist even as the wind whistled down the flue, the fire sputtering wildly (which, really, seemed appropriate). A loud clap of thunder sounded outside, oddly muffled yet amplified by the snow.

And then (and _then_)—a very distinct little _yelp_.

Barney's head shot up over the back of the couch, instantly jarred back into the reality of why this was called '_family_ vacation.'

"Uncle Bawney..?" a four-year-old Mason lisped from the stairs (the perfect image of what Ted must have looked like in a elephant-patterned onesie pajama at that age), blanket in hand. "Wha' you doin'?"

"We're just… talking," Robin's head appeared (at a discreet distance) beside Barney's over the top of the couch. "What's up, buttercup?"

"Da tunder was weally loud, an' I tought—" Mason broke off, scurrying towards them on slippered feet as another rolling crack split the night.

Barney hurried to straighten Robin's blouse as she readjusted his belt (they really were a good team).

"Hey there now," Barney caught the little boy as he leapt onto the couch.

"You want to go see your Mom and Dad?" Robin asked as Mason clutched onto Barney's neck (the kid obviously didn't inherit his grip from Ted).

Mason just shook his head vehemently.

"How about we go back upstairs, at least?" Robin suggested with a soft hand to the boy's back (and a _poor-thing-isn't-he-just-the-sweetest?_ look for Barney).

When Mason didn't immediately acquiesce, Barney (whose heart had melted long before Robin's had—not that he'd admit it) sweetened the deal. "We'll come up with you…" he offered enticingly.

Mason nodded, clutching tighter. Barney stood and carried Mason to the stairs, Robin on their heels. Pushing the door open to the kids' room, they were confronted with a maze of sleeping bags, sheet-tents, and four flashlights that mysteriously went out at once.

"That's not going to work, guys," Robin chided as she stepped inside. "You've never gone to bed before two on any of these trips—and the deep breathing sounds need some work."

Barney shut the door behind them as the flashlights flickered back on one by one.

"Aww man, Mase, why'd you have to be such a baby?" Ben grumbled (the last to turn on his flashlight), settling into all the angst of a newly minted preteen.

"Don't pick on him, Benji," Persephone rose to her cousin's defense, "it's just Uncle Barney and Aunt Robin—they're cool."

"Don't call me Benji," Ben complained (though Barney noted he didn't argue on his aunt and uncle's coolness factor).

"We can always go back to _Maarrrvin_," Persephone drew out her brother's given name with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Shut up, Sepho," Ben threw his pillow as hard as he could—Robin caught it deftly and sat down against the nearest wall.

"Thanks for the pillow, Benji," she smiled, putting it behind her back as Daphne and Emma crawled up on either side (at six, they didn't need to be reminded that Robin was most definitely cool).

Barney settled down with Mason amongst the pile of extra quilts and afghans.

"Is the storm gonna last a long time?" Daphne asked plaintively (Lily must give them private lessons in employing those giant doe eyes—or, on second thought, maybe that was Marshall's department).

"I don't know, kiddo," Robin pulled her in close. "You know your Uncle Barney was afraid of thunder storms when he was your age."

"He was?" Emma asked, skeptically (why Robin had to ruin a perfectly good reputation, he didn't know).

"Oh, sure," Robin caught his eye over their heads (damn her and that maddening little twinkle). "But his dad—well, his uncle at the time—he used to tell him stories until it was over."

"Your dad was your uncle?" Ben's young brow knitted together.

"It's a whole long thing," Barney waved him off.

"Don't worry, your dad is your dad," Robin reassured them (even if she was looking at Barney with an expression that clearly agreed they could have had fun with that). "But I bet we can convince Uncle Barney to tell us a story while we wait," she finished with a wry grin in his direction.

"Oh!" Persephone practically bounced as though her sleeping bag sat on a trampoline. "Tell the first family vacation one."

"That one makes me look bad!" Ben protested.

"Exactly," Sepho smirked (_definitely_ his kind of kid, this one).

"Okay," Barney rubbed his hands together, getting into story mode (it was second nature to him, even now). "So when Ben was two, and Sepho was the size of my thumb," he elicited giggles from the girls, "we took our first official family vacation."

"Lindy says if it's a family vacation, then she should come too," Emma interrupted (Lindy being her mother's niece Melinda—and a bratty little thing, in Barney's completely biased opinion).

"Uncle Barney, my Dad, and your dad are brothers, silly," Daphne explained with all the precocious eye-rolling she could muster, "it's not for the _whole_ family."

"Awe you weally bwoders?" Mason squinted up at Barney sleepily, as if he were putting together a particularly challenging puzzle.

"You betcha," Barney grinned. "Mostly because of the time I got hit by a bus."

"You got hit by a bus?" Ben perked up (they always forgot to act above it all at some point).

"No, first family vacation first," Persephone insisted. "It's my favorite."

So Barney launched into their inaugural trip to this very cabin (he could never say no to the girls), including how Ben hit the terrible two's by way of Lily's baby powder, Robin's lipstick, and Ted's giant jar of Vaseline. (Of course, he left out a few details—there were some stories best saved for when they were older.)

By the time he was done, even Ben and Persephone had snuggled into their sleeping bags.

"Tell us about the bus tomorrow, Uncle Barney?" Sepho yawned loudly.

"I think that can be arranged," Barney glanced at Robin. _'Are they asleep?'_ he mouthed silently, nodding at Daphne and Emma, curled against her side. Robin nodded with a tired smile, reaching out for his hand in the darkness.

_'I guess we're stuck, then,'_ he mouthed again, twining their fingers together.

Robin nodded again, smiling as Mason's head lolled against Barney's shoulder. "I can think of worse ways to be stuck," she whispered.

Barney smiled back, knowing full well that they were resigning themselves to a new page in the photo albums—there was no way Lily would pass this up in the morning without pulling out her camera (but hell, even her cries of how adorable they all were and the stiff neck he was sure to have from sleeping against the wall—well, they were kind of worth it).

Still, the last thing Barney remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Robin's thumb brushing lightly against his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth… (yea, worth it, definitely).

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading, and especially to those that have been sticking through this story over the many, many months I've been working on it. I'll just be doing an epilogue after this chapter, so fingers crossed you won't be waiting so long for the conclusion! **

**In the meantime, please do leave a review—they mean a lot to me and I love to hear your thoughts!**


	15. Epilogue

**Author's Note: l know, I know—I'm terrible. How did I take so long to post this? I really do apologize, though it seems to be par for the course with this story.**

**Haven't been feeling so inspired by the show lately, but I'm giving it a go anyhow. This last chapter picks up where the prologue left off, so if you need to refresh your memory, I'd recommend a gander at that first chapter (it's very short).**

**I hope you'll enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Neither _How I Met Your Mother_ nor the work of Peter, Paul and Mary belong to me—but they're fun to mess around with!**

* * *

**_Epilogue_**

* * *

Robin leaned back in her seat as the last song finished, the soft clicking hum of the CD player echoing through the car.

Ted must have told his kids a very thorough story, because Emma had been spot-on with her song choices. Every single track that played had brought a memory with it—so vibrant and tangible it was as though the song had been written for her and Barney alone.

Somewhere along the way, their heads had stopped bobbing along to the music, as their jaws slackened in something like stunned silence. When Barney's hand reached for hers, their fingers twining together over the gearshift, Robin knew he was remembering the same things.

But now Barney was pulling his fingers away, both hands on the wheel as he pulled suddenly off onto the shoulder.

"Barney!" Robin cried, startled. "You can't just pull off in the middle of the freeway!"

"Says who?" he flashed a cocky grin.

"I don't know... The state legislature of New York..?" she muttered, but he'd already stepped out of the car and around to her side.

"Barney, what are you—?" she exclaimed, perplexed, as he coaxed her out of her seat. Her next words were cut off when he pushed her against the side of the car and kissed her. Hard.

"What was that for?" she asked when he pulled away, feeling the flush in her cheeks that wasn't from the brisk night air.

"Let's just say I was inspired," he grinned, wrapping his hands around to the small of her back.

"Well then," she smirked, "I think I've found my new favorite band."

"I knew you'd love them," Barney leaned in for another softer, more lingering kiss.

"Mmm..." Robin smiled against his lips. "I love _you_," she added in a whisper, with a kiss of her own to show him just how much she meant it.

"Come on," he said huskily. "I have an idea."

"Are we making use of the backseat now, too?" she smiled coyly, still pressed between his body and the car.

"Don't tempt me, Scherbatsky," he eyed her. "But no—at least not _yet_..." he added suggestively as he walked back to the driver's seat. "Any good trip down our memory lane demands this _one_, small stop..."

* * *

Barney gestured dramatically as they stepped into MacLaren's—it looked almost exactly the same, and yet…

"Someone's sitting in our booth," Robin glared resentfully, as if they had any right to lay claim to that booth anymore.

But Barney wasn't exactly one for reason. "They are, those punks!" he exclaimed with a healthy dose of righteous indignation. "Scram, kiddos," he said firmly as he approached the twenty-somethings enjoying their beers. "We're going to be needing this table," he added, as though it were the most logical demand in the world.

"Excuse me?" one of the guys spoke up insolently—all the while flexing his sizable bicep.

"Oh, come on, guys," Robin stepped in hurriedly, laying it on thick and casually leaning over the table. "It has sentimental value—you wouldn't want to get in the way of that, would you?" she simpered, casually pulling her shirt a few inches lower.

"Uhh, umm—no…" the muscled interloper replied, eyes a good bit south of where Barney would prefer.

"Sorry," one of his companions mumbled, getting up. "We can move."

Robin smiled with satisfaction as she assumed the vacated seat, though Barney was more pleased by the distinct sound of both guys getting a smack in the arm and a hissing earful from their girlfriends as they retreated to another table.

"Guess I've still got it," Robin shot a preening smile and—Barney noted with approval—didn't bother to readjust her shirt.

"Oh, you've most definitely got it," Barney assured her.

"When was the last time we were here?" Robin wondered aloud as the waitress brought them matching tumblers of scotch.

"I don't know," Barney looked around. "Last year… Lil's birthday?"

"Man… Seems like just yesterday I was having my first drink with you guys," Robin shook her head in wonderment.

Barney took a contemplative sip of the amber liquid. "I used to come here every night, almost. If you'd told me then I'd go a year without sitting in this booth I'd say you came in one marble short of a set."

"Miss it?" Robin asked, not quite looking him in the eye.

Barney shrugged. "Maybe a few parts… But I think I traded up," he grinned.

"You better believe it," Robin replied with a confident grin in return. "Still… sometimes it feels like a whole other life."

"Think we've changed..?" Barney asked, swirling his drink around in his glass.

"Do you?" Robin countered.

Barney paused, looking up in an imitation of serious thought. "Well we're still awesome," Barney offered matter-of-factly.

"True," Robin nodded—no argument there.

"And we still have legendary adventures," he added, ticking it off on his fingers.

"Of course."

"The possimpible is never far from hand."

"Naturally. But..?"

"But we must have changed somehow," Barney shrugged again. "I just think we got better."

"You do?" It wasn't often Robin could be said to smile shyly, but she was absolutely adorable when she did.

"Oh yea. Barney Stinson, version 3.0, at your service," Barney bowed forward with a flourish. "Now sold exclusively with your very own Robin Scherbatsky 3.7."

"Point seven?" Robin raised an eyebrow.

"I'll catch up with you one day," Barney's eyes were sincere even as he flashed her a competitive grin.

"As long as we're moving in the same direction," Robin eyed him with just the smallest hint of what wonders he could expect when they got home, "I'll be part of your boxed set."

"So we're agreed? Keep changing together?" Barney quirked a brow, extending his hand jauntily across the table.

Robin took his hand, using it to pull him across the scuffed wooden surface and plant a trail of kisses along his jaw to his bottom lip. "_That's what you get for lovin' me_…" she whispered in a sing-song voice.

"I think you missed the point of that song, Robin," Barney smirked, still balancing halfway across the booth, his tie in her hands.

He loved that spark she got in her eyes—dangerous and promising all at once.

"We're going to have to listen to the CD again," he went on as her eyes narrowed and her grin widened.

She pulled him in again, "Oh, just shut up."

And he did just that.

* * *

**A/N: Well, we've come to the end at last. Hard to believe, after all this time. Thanks so much for reading, and particularly to those of you who have stuck with this for the duration.**

**My last, humble request—please do take a moment and share your thoughts. Reviews make my day!**

**Thanks again for coming along on this ride with me—here's to Barney and Robin and at least one version of reality in which they end up where they should: together! :)**


End file.
